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he Shadow of 
the Guillotine 

By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., 
Lustrated by warren b. davis. 




THE POPULAR SERIES. 


No. and Title. 

1— THE OUTCAST OF MILAN 

2— ROLLO OF NORMANDY 

3— MART SATTERLEE AMONG THE INDIAN 

4— KIT CARSON’S LAST TRAIL 

5— THE SCOURGE OF DAMASCUS 

6— THE GREAT KENTON FEUD 

7— LUKE HAMMOND THE MISER 

8— THE CONSPIRATOR OF CORDOVA.. 

9— THE FORTUNES OF CONRAD 

10— DIAMOND SEEKER OF BRAZIL.... 

11— THE ROBBER COUNTESS 

12— BEL RUBIO 

13— THE ROYAL OUTLAW 

14— THE BANDIT OF SYRACUSE 

15— RODERICK OF KILDARE 

16— THE SERF LOVERS OF SIBERIA. . . . 

17— KARL THE LION 

18— THE YOUNG CASTAWAYS 

19— THE CALIPH OF BAGDAD 

20— THE SPECTRE’S SECRET 

21— THE KNIGHT’S MOTTO 

22— ALARIC, or THE TYRANT’S VAULT.. 

23— THE STOLEN VAIL and THE UNSIGNED 

24— THE EXECUTIONER OF VENICE.... 

25— JOSEPHINE’S HEART 

26— THE BLACK TIGER 

27— THESEUS: HERO OF ATTICA 

28— THE GUNMAKER OF MOSCOW 

29— FLORABEL’S LOVER 

30— IONE 

31— PARTED AT THE ALTAR 

32— CRIS ROCK 

33— MAUD MORTON 

34— PARTED BY FATE 

35— UNDER A CLOUD 

36— A MAD BETROTHAL 

37— JOHN WINTHROP’S DEFEAT 

38— LADY KILDARE 

39— A LEAP IN THE DARK 

40— THE BAILIFF’S SCHEME 

41— THE STONE-CUTTER OF LISBON... 

42— THE OLD LIFE’S SHADOWS 

43— REUNITED 

44— A LOVE MATCH 

45— MRS. HAROLD STAGG 

46— BRETA’S DOUBLE and A MEMORY . 

47— THE BEADS OF TASMER 

48— THE LOST LADY OF LONE 

49 — THE BARONESS BLANK 


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SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE 


Works by 

SYLVANUS COBB, Jr. 

THE OUTCAST OF MILAN. 
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KOLLO OF NORMANDY. Popu- 
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THE SHADOW OF THE 
GUILLOTINE. 

A Story of the Reign of Terror; 

v 

21 Nonel. 



SYLVANUS COBB, JR, 

M 77 

Author of “ The Gunmaker of Moscow etc., etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

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The Shadow of the Guillotine. 


CHAPTER I. 

TRAVELLERS “ THE HEART AND THE DAGGER !” 

I T was toward the close of a hot, sultry day of the 
month of August, in the year of our Lord one 
thousand seven hundred and ninety-two. 

France had experienced many a season of strife and 
turmoil, and the reign of anarchy and confusion was 
no new thing within her borders ; many and various 
had been the eruptions of the volcanic spirit of her 
people, and the terrible besom of slaughter had more 
than once swept the devoted land from coast to frontier ; 
but never before had the strife and the turmoil been 
so fierce and relentless ; never before had the eruptions 
been so fearfully fatal ; never before had the red demon 
of slaughter run such unrestrained riot, as at this 
present time. It was, in deed and in truth, a Reign of 
Terror. The Monarch of all Terrors held undisputed 
sway, and the Genius of Destruction ravaged the realm. 
Throughout the length and breadth of the land those 
who held rule were eager only to tear down and de- 

C 7 ] 


8 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


stroy, without one effective thought of building and 
preserving. It was the rule of Riot — the government 
of the Universal Mob ! Reason was utterly dethroned 
and cast to the winds, and wild Frenzy and Madness 
•swayed the flaming scepter ! The fair kingdom — the 
fairest on the face of the globe in its possibilities — 
was under the cruel feet of the most wretched, the 
most wicked, and the most law-defying of her people, 
and fiends incarnate held the reins and gave direction 
to the destiny of the nation. 

We cannot tell upon how many a scene of blood the 
sun of that August day was going down. Of course, 
there was the most terror where was congregated the 
most terrible material ; but the Jacobin and the Sans 
Culotte were terrible anywhere, and at all times, and in 
every nook and corner of France were they to be found. 
Away in the extreme North — at the Channel gates — 
in the Department of Artois, the sulphurous fumes 
arose with the cry of “ Vive la Revolution !” and in the 
market-place of Arras, close by the fountain where the 
women washed their soiled linen, was set up a frame of 
timber, with a flight of steps leading upward to a plat- 
form ; above the platform loomed twin posts, bound at 
the top, between which, running in oiled grooves, was 
a knife heavily weighted on top with iron or lead. And 
the color of the platform plainly indicated the sort of 
work that was done thereon. A traveller, whose 
movements betrayed that he was a stranger in those 
parts, stopped in this market-place, and near to this 
gaunt specter of wood and iron. He was afoot and 
carried a staff in his hand, and after looking around for 
a time he espied a boy plashing with his hands in the 
water of the fountain. 

“ Hola ! My brave boy ! What is this pile of tim- 
ber r 


TRAVELLERS “ THE HEART AND THE DAGGER ! 


9 


“ Ha ! hast eyes, and ask such a question ! Hast 
ears, and need to be told who this grande dame is ! 
4 Vive la Revolution ! Vive la Republique /’ That is 
what she says. Come on the morrow and thou shalt 
hear her talk. Our people will be here. Oho ! This is 
good Mother Guillotine ! And her children she counts 
by the score. How she embraces them ! She is a 
loving mamma.” 

The man looked up again to where the two posts 
were limned against the sky, and then turned away, and 
as he went the boy called after him : 

44 Hola ! Mon brave ! If thou wouldst see her chil- 
dren, go to the hall of justice. There are judges there 
from Paris, and they are counting off the next party 
for the banquet. If thou art indeed a stranger, shout : 
4 Vive la Revolution !' with all thy might.” 

“ And if I should cry : 4 Live the king?’ ” 

The boy started with quick terror, and cast his eyes 
around like one sorely frightened. 

44 Ah,” he exclaimed, 44 let that word be heard from 
thy lips in France and thy head is off in a twinkling ! 
Get thee gone, and show not thy face here again. 
Thou art too near the guillotine for thine own good.” 

The man nodded confidently. He had not spoken 
without care. 

44 1 am indeed a stranger,” he said, 44 and I but put 
the question for information. Be sure I am no lover 
of the king. But other information I much desire. 
Dost know where is the Chateau de Liancourt ?” 

44 1 know where it was.” 

44 Ha ! Has it been — ” 

44 Oho ! It has gone the way of all the nests that held 
enemies of the Republic. The citizens tore it down. 
Its tall towers are laid low, and its great stones are 
scattered upon the sward.” 


10 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


“ And the count — where is he ?” 

“ Which count ? One count is dead, and the other is 
away — in America, they say.” 

“Then you know not of the one who has been in 
America?” 

“ I know nothing.” 

“ Thank you. This for your information,” and he 
threw the lad a piece of silver. 

“ Ah, thou art a true patriot. Come to me for infor- 
mation when it pleases thee.” 

Then grasping his staff, the man turned away and 
strode out from the market-place and out from the 
town of Arras, simply giving as a pass at the gate — 
“ Vive la Revolution /” It was not now the Nation nor 
the Republic , but Revolution was the watchword. The 
man was a little past middle age, perhaps a year or 
two beyond fifty ; of medium height ; compact and 
muscular, and well-formed ; his features strongly 
marked and regular, with a countenance neither hand- 
some nor ugly, but manly and passable, and bearing 
traces of a former beauty that must have been decided. 
Exposure and trial, and, perhaps, the conflict of fierce 
passions, had darkened and corrugated the face to a 
degree that was almost sinister in certain lights and 
conditions. When at his ease, with nothing to arouse 
him from a purely normal condition of mind, the lead- 
ing feature or characteristic was that abandon, or self- 
contained confidence, which renders a man reckless 
and defiant — bold and daring in front of physical 
danger, but morally a coward. He had evidently at 
some period of his life been in military service, though 
there was nothing in his present garb, save his method 
of wearing it, to indicate such a fact. The garb was 
plain and sober, of brown woolen stuff ; a coat and 
waistcoat cut something after the American style ; 


TRAVELLERS — “ THE HEART AND THE DAGGER!” 11 


breeches secured at the knees with small black buckles ; 
long, brown stockings of cotton ; and heavy, thick- 
soled shoes, with goodly sized buckles of silver. On 
his head he wore a tall-crowned hat of the Puritan 
style. 

From Arras he went toward the west, ere long reach- 
ing a stretch of the highway that lay near to a mur- 
muring tributary of the river Authie. For some time 
he had fancied he heard footsteps behind him, and as 
he approached a point where a dense wood swept nearly 
down to the bank of the stream, leaving only clear 
space enough for the road, he concluded that he would 
stop and see who or what might be on his track. Day- 
light was waning, and he cared not to be overhauled by 
a possible enemy in the wood, though how he could 
have an enemy there he could not tell. 

Very soon the approaching steps sounded more dis- 
tinctly, and ere long a man appeared coming over the 
same way which he himself had trodden. This new- 
comer, standing by the water’s edge, where the very 
last rays of the setting sun shone upon him, passing 
and leaving him in the shadow while he stood there, 
presented a study. He was a man, once seen, not to 
be easily forgotten. As he stopped, he took off his hat 
and wiped his brow. He was rather below the medium 
height, with a slight, frail figure ; every point of body 
and face sharp and angular ; his limbs apparently 
shaky and feeble, his forehead small and projecting 
over the brows and over the temples ; the eyes blue, 
but so deeply set that they often appeared jetty black ; 
the nose straight and small, and expanding at the nos- 
trils ; a large mouth and thin lips, feebly supported by 
a chin slight and pointed ; his complexion was yellow 
and livid, like that of a man worn by sorrow, suffering 
and, perhaps, prolonged sickness. The muscles of the 


12 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

face were tense and hard, the expression harsh and 
severe. And yet the man could smile, though there 
was apt to be more of sarcasm than of sweetness in it. 
Of course, the man was far from handsome, and to 
most people of refined tastes and feelings, he must have 
appeared ugly and repulsive. His age could not have 
been more than five-and-thirty, though at times he 
looked much older. His garb was poor and thread- 
bare. The coat of an olive-green color was ill-shaped 
and ill-fitting, seeming to have been made for a larger 
man ; the small-clothes were of a dull red ; the stock- 
ings, fitting closely to the spindle-like legs, were striped 
with red and white ; and upon his worn shoes were 
soiled rosettes of red, white and blue. His hat was 
something like the Kossuth hat of the present day, the 
broad brim looped up over the left ear with a cockade, 
and the crown small and peaked. He looked upon the 
man in Puritan garb very sharply, and when he spoke, 
his voice was sharp and harsh, not unlike the creak of 
a file upon a saw-plate. 

“ I give thee good-day, citizen, if the day be not too 
far spent.” 

“ Day or evening, it is all one,” responded our first 
acquaintance. “ If you wish me well, allow me to re- 
turn the wish.” 

“ I wish well to everything,” said the angular man, 
eying the other sharply ; “ dost not thou ?” 

“ I’ faith ! I don’t know, stranger. I wish every- 
thing was good, certainly.” 

“ A good king for instance ?” queried he of the yellow 
visage, significantly, though he tried to speak lightly. 

Had the man in brown been possessed of the genius 
of a Machiavel he could not have made an answer more 
to the purpose than that which slipped naturally and 
readily from his lips : 


TRAVELLERS “ THE HEART AND THE DAGGER !” 13 


“ My faith ! A good king, methinks, would be some- 
thing like unto a good disease. He can enjoy it who 
likes. As for me, I prefer health. And, my friend, 
thou lookestlike a man of wit and judgment ; wilt thou 
tell me, what is the use of a king where the people 
have no voice in giving him power ?” 

“Upon my life, citizen, thou art bold to speak thus 
freely to a stranger.” 

“ Bold enough to tell the truth, my friend ; and yet, 
not so bold, perhaps, as you may imagine.” 

At this point the small man started, and the muscles 
of his face twitched nervously ; but as the other went 
on he composed himself. 

“ For,” the man in brown continued, “ thy face, 
though not inviting, is at least honest, and I think thy 
heart is in the right place. Thou wouldst not betray 
one who trusted thee.” 

“ Thy hand, my brother ! Thou speakest truly,” 
cried he in olive-green, at the same time advancing, 
and extending his hand. “ Goest thou to the west- 
ward ?” 

“ For a spell — yes.” 

“ Then we will walk together. Hast thou a watch- 
word ?” 

“ Always. I have learned it after years spent in 
America — the land of Washington — of Liberty and 
Independence.” 

Truly, the angular man was touched in the most 
effective spot and manner. That his confidence and 
esteem were won was evident enough. 

“ Good citizen, wilt thou not give me thy name ?” 

“ Aye — thou shalt have the only name I have used 
for years. I am called Rupert of Redwood. And 
now, to repay me, wilt thou say how I may call thee ?” 

“ Aye, with equal truth and sincerity, for I give thee 


14 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

a name that has been mine from childhobd — Joseph 
Max.” 

After this the twain moved on, and their conversa- 
tion was quite free and fairly frank. Rupert of Red- 
wood very soon made up his mind that Master Max 
was one of the political leaders of the day, and if he 
was not a great-hearted patriot, a sympathetic friend 
of the people and a devoted apostle of justice and 
truth, then he was a most consummate actor, for all 
these grand and sublime sentiments burst forth from 
his lips as though born and nurtured in his heart. 
Further, Rupert discovered that his companion was 
now bound upon a political work — it would appear, a 
meeting to be holden in some secret place during that 
night, and by and by it came out -accidentally, all 
through Rupert’s asking information concerning the 
destruction of the Chateau de Liancourt. 

“Ha!” cried Max, with a start. “Art bound for 
that place ?” 

“Thither were my steps bent.” 

“ Good ! We shall be companions. You will remain 
here in Artois ?” 

“ For a time, yes.” 

“ Right. I can spend but an hour ; but we will have 
our business well laid out.” 

On the other hand, of Rupert of Redwood, Joseph 
Max learned that he had lately returned from the 
United States of America, where he had spent several 
years, and where he had been engaged in military ser- 
vice. This opened up a field of broad and interesting 
inquiry on Joseph’s part, and Rupert answered his dis- 
criminating questions readily, and with keen judgment 
and knowledge. 

Thus they conversed until the shadows had gathered 
thickly, and until the thick wood had been well nigh 


travellers- 


THE HEART AND THE DAGGER !” 15 


passed. Not far in advance was to be seen an open- 
ing, and through the vista, in the extreme distance, 
was to be seen a bold swell of wooded land standing 
revealed against the flaming sky, for beyond that hill 
the sun had set. 

“ See !” cried Joseph Max, pointing off to where a 
grim pile of jagged ruin was visible, outlined against 
the elevated horizon. “ There is what is left of mon- 
seigneur's proud castle. That is Liancourt ; or, more 
properly and strictly speaking, Miremont.” 

Before Rupert could answer, the attention of the 
twain was called to the sound of horses’ feet upon the 
road over which they had come. 

“ Are we followed ?” exclaimed Max. 

“ There are not many horses,” said he of Redwood, 
bending his ear toward the ground. “ Hark !” — and 
he knelt and laid his ear upon the sward — “ I hear but 
two. We need not fear them, I think.” 

“ How,” cried Joseph, with an exhibition of surprise 
that was really childish, “ do you put your ear to the 
earth that you may hear ?” 

“ Aye, Monsieur Joseph. It is a trick I learned of 
the American Indians, and it is — ” 

The sentence was not finished. A quick cry from 
the Jacobin — for such our friend of the green coat un- 
doubtedly was — caused Rupert of Redwood to turn 
his head, and with a hearty oath he sprang back against 
a stout tree, and brought forth a heavy pistol from a 
breast-pocket. 

******* 

In order that we may understand what cause the 
travellers had for alarm, we will go back a little way 
in time, and look upon another road, running west- 
ward from Arras, north of that which we have been 
following. 


16 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


Upon this northern road, which was but a, by-way, 
winding around to reach an old mill that stood on a 
hill, in the edge of the wood, as the sun was sinking 
behind the distant hills, stood two men. They were 
physically powerful, and their faces plainly revealed 
that they were as bold and reckless and unscrupulous 
as they were strong of muscle. Their garbs were of the 
cut and quality worn by the peasantry of Artois, and 
scant enough to give them rightful claim to the title of 
sans culottes. In their frayed and soiled sashes they 
wore heavy knives, and besides these they carried each 
a regular war^club. In their conversation they ad- 
dressed one another as Ismael and Jacques. He called 
Ismael was a man of forty, swart as an Indian, with 
low, brutish forehead, and a neck like the neck of a 
bull. He who answered to the name of Jacques was a 
few years younger, and evidently the stronger of the 
two. Take them all in all, as they lurked there in the 
gloomsome wood, and they were about the last pair 
an honest man, with money in his purse, would have 
cared to meet. 

While they stood for a little time considering, they 
heard the sound of approaching footsteps, upon which 
they drew back under cover to watch. 

“ It cannot be that he has taken this path,” said 
Ismael, in a whisper. 

“ No, of course not. And there are more than one 
pair of feet, too.” 

“ Aye — but he might — ” 

No, no — there they come. They are Gabriel and 
Raoul. Look ! They have their clubs. They have 
work on hand. Shall we speak to them ?” 

“ There can be no harm. They are of the Fraternity." 

So the lurkers stalked forth from their hiding-place, 
and were at once recognized by the new-comers, who 


TRAVELLERS “ THE HEART AND THE DAGGER !” 17 


saluted them gushingly. They were, as Jacques had 
announced, Gabriel and Raoul. The former was a 
man of four or five-and-twenty, and the other perhaps 
five years older ; and in every way were they fit mates 
for the first twain. They were powerful animals, with 
the natures of the mastiff and the tiger bestowed upon 
them in equal proportions. 

“ Of the Fraternity." 

Aye— that told the story, for they had not conversed 
a full minute before the truth had become apparent. 
They were members of a secret organization, bound 
together by vows which were not to be broken. In 
that time, when the government was in the hands of 
the mob, and when human life was held so cheaply 
that blood ran as freely as water, the very worst and 
most reckless and heaven-defying of the rabble orga- 
nized themselves into bands, or societies for mutual 
protection, for plunder, and for such mutual help as 
might be required. In different localities were differ- 
ent societies. One of the bands organized first in 
Paris at the commencement of the Revolution, was 
called “ The Brotherhood of the Heart and the Dagger." 
It was not extensive as to its membership, but it was 
powerful in its cohesion. During the six years of its 
existence not a single member of it fell by violation of 
his obligation. Never, to the knowledge of the chiefs, 
was the faith broken by one of the fraternity. The 
oath of initiation was one of the most terrible that 
could be conjured up, and the dead certainty that the 
infliction of the penalty would speedily follow a viola- 
tion of the oath was sufficient to hold its members true 
to one another. And then there was safety to the in- 
dividual resulting from this affiliation. The brothers 
were sworn to help each other, even to the destruction 
of life and the breaking of law. They knew no other 


18 


THE SHADOW OE THE GUILLOTINE. 


party. Sympathizing with the mob, they were at heart 
Jacobins ; yet, should duty call, they would stab a 
Jacobin as quickly as they would a Royalist. When it 
had come to the necessity of secret assassinations 
throughout the realm, the members of “ the Heart and 
the Dagger ” were ready for the work, and for the 
plunder which often came with it. 

And of this terrible craft were the four men thus 
met in that wood. Assured that no other ears were 
near to take in their words, they hesitated not to speak 
freely. 

“ Ah,” said Gabriel, with a significant twirl of the 
thumb and finger, addressing the other twain, “ thou 
art to strike the Green Haivk .” 

“Ay, even so,” added Jacques, nodding. 

“ I’ faith, it is well we met. Our man is with him. 
They are together on the other road.” 

“ Hast seen them ?” 

“ No ; but our boy has tracked them. He found the 
man we sought by the fountain of the market-place, 
and he followed him until he saw him join the Hawk, 
when he darted across to tell us.” 

“ Who is your man, tnon brave ?” 

“ He is called Rupert of Redwood.” 

“ Ah ! The man would have fallen to us but for the 
coming of the more important game. But tell us, good 
Gabriel, who and what is this victim that he should be 
worth so much care ?” 

“ By my life, Jacques, I know not, nor can I imagine. 
The master will not enlighten us, and for the first time 
in the whole course of my work I am totally in the 
dark. I cannot imagine. It gives me real pain. But, 
good Jacques, are not our masters growing great ? I 
never thought they would give us the Green Hawk to 
silence.” 


TRAVELLERS — U THE HEART AND THE DAGGER !** 10 

“ It is dark to me, Gabriel — as dark as it is to thee. 
But — come. If our men are together, we must strike 
together !” 

‘‘ Aye — even so.” 

“ Then let us move on. The path by which we cross 
over is not far away. Our man is not strong.” 

“ Ah, ours is a tige„r !” 

“ Well — we are four, and we will work as one.” 

“ Good ! Let us move on. Our boy will meet us if 
they separate or turn aside.” 

Raoul, to whom the boy-scout was particularly at- 
tached, took the lead. At a short distance from the 
point where they had come together a path was found 
opening to the southward, toward the Authie highway, 
into which they plunged, and sped rapidly on. Ever 
and anon they stopped and listened, and at times they 
hesitated and considered ; but they did not fear — that 
is, they feared not that which rogues in ordinary might 
fear — the hand of Justice — for many of the officers of 
justice were of their society, and the blind goddess 
herself was shackled and prone beneath their feet. 
Other justice was above and beyond the reach of their 
unassisted thought. 



CHAPTER II. 

HOW THE TIDE OF BATTLE WAS CHANGED. 

Had Rupert of Redwood been alone he might have 
been stricken unawares by the enemy that lay in am- 
bush for him ; but Joseph Max was not a man to be 
caught entirely off his guard. Not a moment had 
passed since they entered the wood during which his 
quick ear had not been open, and his restless eyes on 
the watch. The first movement in the woody cover 
attracted his notice, and he caught his companion by 
the arm and pulled him aside just in season to escape 
the fell stroke of one of the heavy clubs. 

“Ah,” he exclaimed, pulling a pistol from his bosom, 
“ they have tracked me !” 

“Aye,” cried Gabriel, whose club had been aimed at 
Rupert’s head, “ it is the pair of you this time ! Say 
your prayers in a hurry !” and he aimed a second blow 
at the head of his intended victim. 

But Rupert warded off this second blow very easily, 
and then darted back and took a hasty survey of his 
surroundings. 

Very fortunately a simple accident greatly befriended 
him. Standing in the road he had observed a dark 
recess in the bank upon his right hand, and feeling that 
f 20] 


HOW THE TIDE OF BATTLE WAS CHANGED. 21 

any retreat would be gain, he leaped backward into it, 
when he found it to be a gravel-pit, wider within than 
at the entrance, and on any easy level with the high- 
way. From some cause he had conceived a liking for 
his weak-kneed companion, and with a strength of arm 
that was wonderful he fairly lifted Master Joseph Max 
from his feet and set him within the pit. 

And now this Rupert of Redwood exposed a piece of 
deception that might justly have aroused the indigna- 
tion of his opponents. His innocent-looking staff, 
seeming only such as a godly friar might have carried 
for the support of his steps, was in reality a bar of 
tempered steel, with a handle warranting a grasp firm 
and sure, and with knotty corrugations at the extremity 
calculated to make terrible havoc with living tissue. 
With such a weapon, in a place where a man could 
hold his enemy before him, a pair of strong arms could 
do wonderful work. There is something ghastly and 
murderous in the look of a gleaming sword, but after 
all, the well-balanced club, in the hands of a strong, 
clear-headed man, is a more deadly weapon. At all 
events, it is a weapon more easily handled, and your 
average man will use it more readily and effectively. 

As for Master Joseph Max, he could not be called, 
physically, a brave man. The knocking of grim death 
at his door frightened him and made his legs weak ; 
yet he had the nerve to draw a pistol ; and he had the 
extreme good fortune to fire just in season, and just in 
the required direction, to send a bullet through the 
arm that was raised to plunge a knife into Rupert’s 
neck. Rupert saw and did not forget. 

“ Take heart, Joseph,” the latter cried. “ Strike with 
me if you have another shot.” 

But he of Redwood could not finish the sentence. 
The man through whose right arm Joseph had sent a 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


99 

/V/V» 

bullet quickly had his knife in the other hand and had 
renewed the attack. 

“ Men ! Why do ye this thing?” demanded Joseph, 
crouching away behind his companion. His voice was 
loud and shrill, like the cry of a startled eagle or hawk. 
“ Do you know who I am ?” 

“ Know thee !” repeated Jacques, with intense scorn. 
“ I know thee too well, and we ’ll rid Artois of the ser- 
pent ! Think not to escape. Say thy prayers, if thou 
hast courage to lift thy voice to Heaven.” 

Unfortunately for the assassins, but very fortunately 
for their intended victims, they had followed a rule 
adopted for their government in certain cases, not to 
carry firearms. The man who hds a loaded pistol with 
him will surely fire it when sudden danger comes, and 
burning powder makes a great noise, and is apt to be- 
tray the cause in which it is ignited ; so the bravos had 
come upon their present mission armed only with their 
clubs and knives ; and, ordinarily, those would have 
been sufficient — and they would have been sufficient in 
the present case, notwithstanding the unexpected and 
wonderful prowess of Rupert of Redwood, had he and 
his quivering companion been left to their own efforts. 

Rupert had gained an excellent position, and the 
sweep of his ponderous staff was terrible. Twice had 
Jacques, the strongest of the assassins, gone down be- 
neath the blows thereof, and the right arm of Gabriel 
had *been disabled, if not broken ; but the villains were 
desperate, determined men, and they meant not to give 
up. They had their strong-armed opponent in the 
cul-de-sac he had himself selected and sought, and they 
had, they thought, only to tire him out and dispatch 
him. 

“ Hold !” commanded Ismael, who was the recog- 
nized chief. “ Let us not make a fatal blunder. He is 


HOW THE TIDE OF BATTLE WAS CHANGED. 


23 


a swordsman. He is a soldier. Let poor Max stand 
back till we have finished his better. Jacques — Raoul 
— to the right and left ! Watch his eye ! Strike when 
I speak.” 

The light of day was almost gone, but the gravel-pit 
was so situated that while there was a glimmer of light 
in the western sky it penetrated the recess. Rupert 
had fought hard, and had been forced to fight rapidly, 
for he had had the blows of three men aimed at him, 
and as an inevitable result his arm had become weak 
and lame. There was a sharp ache at the wrist, and it 
did not seem that he could lift his iron club again. 
The man who had been shot through the arm chanced 
to have upon his feet a pair of wooden sabots, and with 
these, being agile in that respect, he was able to make 
a flank movement upon the quarry. 

As though by mutual consent, there was a brief 
pause for breath and rest, and a blessed thing was it 
for Rupert. Still, what should he do when his assail- 
ants came on again? With a seriousness that would 
have been laughable had not the prospect been so dark- 
some, Citizen Ismael gave to Gabriel (shot in the arm) 
directions for his part in the next attack. 

“ Sdeath,” he exclaimed, “ had I known that I was to 
meet the best and stoutest swordsman in France, armed 
with a rod of iron, be sure I should have taken either 
more men, or a brace of good pistols. It was a great 
mistake. But we’ll soon finish now. Upon his left side 
you will plant your sabots, good Gabriel, and be sure 
you serve them well and smartly.” 

Then to the other two he said : 

“ If you think of your own heads, we shall never cap- 
ture our man. When I give the word make but one 
grand onset, and all shall go well.” 

“Certainly, the rascals were taking it coolly. They 


24 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


had seen tlieir first mistake, and were prepared to rec- 
tify it. Rupert grasped his staff, but he felt his wrist 
very weak and lame. He must have given it a twist in 
some way that sprained it. He could not make another 
such defense as he had just accomplished. As he stood 
leaning against the gravel wall, watching the sinister- 
looking assassins, his thoughts were occupied in won- 
der at this attack upon himself. Joseph Max had 
whispered to him that their assailants belonged to a 
sworn brotherhood of assassins, who took advantage 
of the present lamentable condition of the country to 
ply their vocation to their own profit. So Rupert knew 
that an enemy had set these murderers upon him. 
Who was that enemy ? Ah, if he lived beyond this 
meeting, he would ascertain. But — should he live ? 
He did not see how he was to escape. 

But a way was to be opened, nevertheless. Ismael 
had passed an order, in a whisper, to his companions, 
when the sound of horses’ feet broke 'distinctly upon 
the air — the same sound, probably, which the two trav- 
ellers had heard just before the attack of the butchers, 
and which they had forgotten. Now, however, hearing 
it again, Joseph Max took advantage of it, and raised a 
cry for help that made the welkin ring. 

With a fierce, oath Ismael raised his club, and giving 
the order for attack, dashed forward. 

“ Dog of a traitor — cease thy howling ! Take that, 
and be still !” 

Had the blow been aimed at himself, Rupert of Red- 
wood might not have found the strength that leaped 
through nerve to muscle when he found the man in 
danger who leaned upon him. With a quick sweep of 
his steel bar he dealt a blow that knocked Ismael’s 
club from its owner’s grasp, and before he could regain 
it, and while his companions were waiting for him to 


HOW THE TIDE OF BATTLE WAS CHANGED. 


come again to their lead, the scene took on a new 
phase from the entrance upon it of two horsemen. 

They were both comparatively young men, though 
one was some years younger than the other. He who 
at once assumed the right of leadership was not more 
than three-and-twenty, and upon his breast was a bit 
of blue ribbon, with a small jeweled star, and shield of 
gold. His oompanion’ might have been twenty-eight, 
or thereabouts, and his garb was of the kind usually 
worn by esquires, or valets, who were confidential at- 
tendants upon men of rank and title. 

Joseph Max cried out with all his energy : 

“ For the love of Heaven, good young man, if you 
have a heart in your bosom, save us from these paid 
butchers !” 

“ vSdeath !” quickly exclaimed Ismael, who had re- 
gained his club, addressing the youngest of the new 
comers. “ I do not think Monseigneur will venture to 
put his fingers into this fire. He had better turn his 
head another way and be off.” 

“ A true French gentleman does not leave a fellow- 
creature in danger, and, mayhap, to death, when it is 
in his arm to render help. I see here four big, stout 
men smiting only two. It is an unfair onset ; myself 
and companion will just equalize things.” 

“Does Monseigneur really mean to lift his hand 
against us ?” demanded Jacques, who probably fancied 
that his extra bulk gave him the right to speak. 

“ I command that you leave these two men alone, in 
peace and in liberty.” 

“ And who art thou ?” 

u The owner of the land whereon we stand. Art 
satisfied ?” 

“What!” broke from the lips of both Ismael and 
Gabriel ; and the former proceeded : “ Thou art Louis 


20 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

de Liancourt, aforetime Count de la Capelle. If thou 
wert not an aristocrat that bauble would not be ex- 
posed upon thy breast. Thou art doomed !” 

“ Insolent knave,” cried the young nobleman, whisk- 
ing his sword from its scabbard, “ take that for those 
foul words !” And he struck Isniael across the face 
with the flat of his blade. 

The assassin w T as furious at this, and, with a wild 
oath and with a wilder leap, he sprang forward and 
aimed a furious blow at the count’s shoulder of the 
sword-arm. 

The cry and the movement of Ismael were a signal 
to his companions, and they leaped to the conflict, 
Raoul making straight for the little man in the green 
coat, whom he would certainly have killed on the in- 
stant had not the sword of de Liancourt been in season 
to knock the blow aside. The young man had thus 
quickly proved himself a master of his weapon, for be- 
fore saving the life of Joseph Max he had dealt Ismael 
a blow upon the head that had laid him senseless, but 
not senseless for a long time. Ah, no ! Those heads 
of the loved ones of the Sans Culottes were too hard 
and tough to give way beneath any blow of less mo- 
mentum than that of an earthquake ; so Ismael and 
Raoul were quickly upon their feet, and when they 
struck again it was with a fury utterly savage and de- 
moniac. 

What could the young Lord of Liancourt do ? Cer- 
tainly, there was but one thing. It was the primal law 
of nature he obeyed, and in saving his own life he was 
forced to sweep away all deadly things from his path. 

When Louis de Liancourt had been driven to his 
course — when he had the choice alone between con- 
quest and death — be sure he made quick work of it. 
In the first place, his sword was one of the very best 


MOW THE TIDE OF BATTLE WAS CHANGED. 


27 


that France ever saw, or that Spain ever suffered to 
depart from her borders ; and, next, he wielded it 
wondrously well. Having made up his mind that the 
four men opposed to him were hired assassins ; and that 
they had attacked these apparently inoffensive travellers 
for the purpose^ of simple butchery ; and, last and most 
weighty of all, that they had sworn to butcher him in 
regular course — with this train of regular reflection in 
mind, the count raised himself in his stirrups, poised 
his keen blade with a tremendous power of tempered 
will, and then — struck home ! His first blow, after the 
real battle-cry had passed his lips, clove the skull of 
Ismael from crown to chine ; and in not more than 
three minutes from that time the giant Jacques, bleed- 
ing profusely, plunged into the wildwood and disap- 
peared, leaving his three companions dead behind him. 

“ Now, my good friend — ” Thus far spoke the count, 
when the work had been done, thinking to address the 
man called Joseph Max, but he came to an abrupt 
pause when he discovered that the little, yellow-faced 
man in green had taken himself off. He was nowhere 
to be seen. There were three dead men upon the 
sward ; Rupert of Redwood stood apart, breathing 
heavily ; and Louis de Liancourt and his follower were 
looking around for the man who, they believed, could 
give them information. 

“ Martin, where is the man ?” 

“ Sure enough ! Where is he ?” 

“ He was not hurt ?” 

“Assuredly not.” 

The count then turned to the fighting man. 

“ Who art thou ?” 

“ I am called Rupert of Redwood, monseigneur. He 
whom you look for and do not find called himself 
Joseph Max, though I believe he can truly answer to 


28 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


another name. And yet — aye, surely — he swore to me 
that he had been Joseph Max from childhood. But I 
never saw him until this evening. We met by accident, 
and as we were bound in the same direction we came 
on together. How we were set upon you can judge.” 

“ Aye,” answered the count, “ but I cannot judge the 
why or wherefore.” 

“ I’ faith ! Neither can I, my lord. I only know that 
it was their purpose to butcher us both. However, be 
sure these miserable canailles were not the originators. 
They were hired by their masters.” 

“ Then thou art sure they were hired assassins ?” 

“ Aye — I know it.” 

“Thank Heaven for that ! I shall not regret that I 
have removed them from their field of labor. And 
now what shall we do with the bodies ?” 

A brief discussion of the subject followed, and it was 
decided that they should be left as they were. Said 
Rupert, who had betrayed that he was thoroughly 
versed in the laws and customs of that far northern 
department : 

“ Whoever shall find these things in the morning will 
know them at once for the remains of villains feared 
and detested by all honest people, and they will very 
quickly conclude that they fell through their own 
wickedness.” 

So the bodies were left as they fell, and the count 
and his attendant led their horses out into the road, 
where the latter offered his beast to him of Redwood. 

“Aye,” added the count in a frank and friendly 
manner, “ my good Martin can walk, and I see that 
thou art weary. If thou wilt keep on with me thou 
shalt have good shelter and repose, I warrant thee.” 

“ Thou art bound to the Castle of St. Jean, I think ?” 

“ Yes, to the home of the Marquis of St. Omer.” 


HOW THE TIDE OF BATTLE WAS CHANGED. 


29 


“ Dost speak of Philip d’Artois ?” 

“ Yes. Though he is of the family of Artois, he bears 
not the title. The Count d’Artois is second brother of 
the king. Philip is but the Marquis of St. Omer, and I 
am going now to his chateau. It cannot be far distant. 
These are my own lands of Miremont, and the lands of 
St. Jean join them.” 

In the deepening dusk the elder man looked into the 
face of the count, and a changeful expression was upon 
his countenance. 

Ah, it was a handsome face upon which he looked, 
and a handsome man bore it ! Louis de Liancourt was 
tall and strong, formed for strength and agility and the 
utmost amount of endurance. His limbs were full and 
gracefully outlined ; his breast broad and swelling ; 
his shoulders gracefully sloping and powerfully com- 
pact ; his face frank and attractive, with the stamp of 
heart and truth in its every line and lineament ; his 
brow high and full, set like a tower of intellectual 
strength above a pair of eyes that glowed with won- 
drous light — eyes of that peculiar gray color which has 
the quality of appearing many other colors under the 
change of circumstances ; his hair was of a deep, rich 
brown, curling in pretty ringlets, and yet firm in its 
place. It was not a light, wayward mass of curls, but 
curls which, like the muscular limbs, possessed charac- 
ter of strength and health and reliability. His garb 
was not rich, though costly. The velvet was of the 
finest, the linen of the whitest and most delicate, the 
silk and satin of the most brilliant and rarest fabric, 
while the few ornaments, simple and chaste, were of 
the first water. The star and shield upon his breast, 
though far from glaring, contained diamonds worth a 
merchant’s fortune. 

Aye — it was a handsome face upon which Rupert of 


30 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


Redwood gazed, and many were the changes that 
played upon his own face the while. At length he 
lifted his hand and laid it upon the young nobleman’s 
shoulder, and when he spoke there was a cadence in 
his voice that betrayed the deepest feeling — feeling not 
only deep, but from the very fount of the heart’s 
strongest emotions. 

“Thou art Louis de Liancourt, Count'de la Capelle. 
Thy father was also Louis. Thou has been in America, 
and have but now returned.” 

“Aye,” returned our hero (for such we may acknowl- 
edge him), in much surprise, “ thou hittest the truth 
very nearly.” 

“ Near enough, I think. But enough of that. Dost 
know the present condition of the halls of thy fathers ?” 

“ Thou meanest my chateau of Liancourt ?” 

“ The same.” 

“Aye — I know but too well. The beasts have de- 
stroyed it.” 

“ They have. And now — whither goes thou ?” 

“ I may keep on.” 

“But thou didst offer me shelter; where was that to 
have been ?” 

“ At Saint Jean. Dost thou not comprehend ? With 
the Marquis of Saint Omer. I have not seen him for 
years, but I fear not to demand hospitality beneath his 
roof for a friend. We were warmly attached in the 
other years, and I think he would even now give me a 
father’s love and consideration. At all events, he will 
be my friend, and grant any reasonable request. Wilt 
thou come with me ?” 

Rupert drew back and answered quickly. 

“ No, no — I must not — Hush ! Ask me not again. 
“ Go thou, and be sure that the first effort of thy 
speech is to inform the marquis of this affair. I am, in 


HOW THE TIDE OF BATTLE WAS CHANGED. 31 


a measure, a stranger in France, having just returned 
from a long absence abroad. Tell to d’ Artois everything. 
He can advise thee ; and, if I mistake not, thou wilt 
stand in need of something more than advice ere long.” 

“ Aye,” said the count, casting his eyes back to where 
the dead bodies were just visible in the gathering 
gloom. “ If those fellows have friends among the 
Jacobin leaders, it may be bad for me.” 

“ Bad enough, be sure, monseigneur. But trust the 
marquis. He will help thee, and he can judge of the 
danger, which I cannot.” 

“ But, my dear sir, there seems to be already danger 
to yourself. Were not two of those rascals lurking for 
your life f” 

“ Yes. I am evidently a marked man. I doubt if 
you will ever see me again. This section of the country 
cannot be healthy for me, and I think I shall leave it. 
However, that is my affair. It cannot matter to you. 
My Lord of Lianc our t, look to yourself ! As sure as 
the sun will rise again on the morrow, just so sure will 
the hounds of the guillotine be upon your track ! Make 
haste and confer with d’Artois. Tell him everything. 
He may help you.” 

“ Rupert — one word. Who was the man with you 
when 1 came up — the poor, frightened wretch, whose 
life I saved from two separate strokes ?” 

“ Upon my word, Sir Louis, I do not know. He 
called himself Joseph Max, but that is nonsense. But 
I will know if I can. He slipped from us adroitly.” 

“ A very fox by nature, without doubt. Be sure he 
is bound upon some political intrigue. But we must 
not remain here. If thou wilt not come with me,, 
myself and Martin must ride on alone. Adieu ! And 
may you come forth safely from the troubles that seem 
to be gathering about you.” 


32 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


Rupert caught the count’s hand. His eye was 
strangely glowing, and his nether lip quivered per- 
ceptibly when he spoke. 

“ Louis de Liancourt, I shall not forget that I owe to 
thee my life. But for thy coming I should now be 
lying in the place of those who attacked me. I shall 
not forget. Adieu ! If we ever meet again, it may be 
mine to make some return of favor. Aye — the time 
may be when Rupert of Redwood shall come to thee 
with the power of life and death in his hand. Re- 
member !” 

And with this the strange man struck his ponderous 
staff upon the ground and strode away. The count 
watched him until he had disappeared in the gathering 
gloom, and then sprang into his saddle. 

“ Come, Martin, we have no time to lose. My soul ! 
Here is a work to leave behind us we little thought of 
when we started. How it shall end Heaven only 
knows.” 

“ May Heaven see it ending for good, my lord.” 

“ Amen !” 

An hour later men came to that spot in the wood with 
horses and lifted the dead bodies to bear them away. 
They were of the Brotherhood of the Heart and the 
Dagger, and their murmurings were of vengeance, 
swift and dire. 




louis de liancourt’s escape. — See Chapter 8, 








CHAPTER III. 

A FATAL BOND. 

Throughout the length and breadth of Artois there 
was not a fairer estate than was that of St. Jean. 
Northward from a branch of the Authie River spread 
a beautiful tract of richly diversified land, with hill and 
dale and sloping meadow, and grand old forest of oak 
and beech and maple, all serving as a background of 
support, in the picture, to the picturesque old Norman 
Castle, where, in former times, the Counts d’Artois had 
held almost regal court, but where, of late, the Marquis 
of St. Omer and Baron of St. Jean had made it his 
home, the property having come to him partly by mar- 
riage, and partly by gift of Louis XV. That is — the 
estate had belonged to the king, having been his from 
childhood, but a certain fair cousin held a reversionary 
claim, and when this cousin became wife of the Marquis 
St. Omer, Louis surrendered his right to the husband. 
He could not, however, transfer with it the title of 
count, but he made the new possessor a baron of St. 
Jean, which was deemed an honor of great worth; and 
he allowed him, or required him, to assume his wife’s 
family name — “d’Artois.” 

The present marquis was Philip d’Artois. At the 
time of which we write he was fifty years of age, and 

f 33 J 


34 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


physically strong and well. He was of medium height 
and size, faultlessly proportioned ; and, taken all in all, 
he could but be called a handsome man. Certainly, his 
years should not have bent him, and yet he was bent. 
Trouble had been his, though none could clearly define 
it. He had lost his wife several years before, and had 
also laid away the mortal remains of an only son in 
the tomb ; but this should not have broken him as he 
had been broken, for he had left to him, to love 
and to cherish, and to give back to him rich return of 
love and devotion, the bright, young being whom he 
called daughter ; and surely it would be difficult to 
understand how gloom and disquiet could come within 
the sphere made bright and promising by the winsome, 
brilliant beauty — Ninon d’Artois. 

But, suppose a lurking danger threatened this very 
fount of joy and sunshine ! Suppose a serpent was on 
the track, whose fatal folds might not be warded off. 
And suppose Philip d’Artois saw, but dared not speak. 
Ah, then, indeed, there might have been cause of un- 
rest, deep and harrowing. We shall see. 

On the sultry August evening that witnessed the 
conflict upon the highway, of which we have written, 
as the sun was sinking behind the distant forest, Philip 
d’Artois sat in his library, with papers of various de- 
scriptions, some open, and some folded — some tied 
neatly into bundles, and others lying scattered loosely 
— upon the table before him. It was a grand old 
library, with a rare wealth of books, and pictures, and 
bric-a-brac — and it was a grand old chateau of which 
this library formed a part. Built — its main keep and 
principal walls — in the time of Philip Augustus, it was 
stern and strong, and fashioned for the maintenance 
of an army ; and during the reigns of the more fastidi- 
ous of the Valois monarchs many additions and adorn- 


A FATAL BOND. 


35 


tnents had been made, so that now, in the days when 
luxury had become among- the nobles a seeming 
necessity of life, it combined with a strong and well- 
appointed fortress all that could make a dwelling 
attractive and luxurious. 

The marquis was clad in a garb rich and somber, 
the upper garments, as well as the breeches, being of 
black velvet, and the only ornament was a star and 
ribbon upon his breast. There was no lace of any 
kind — no gold nor silver, unless we notice the small 
buckles at the knees and upon his shoes — and even his 
linen was plain, without ruffles or extra plaiting. He 
had been sitting at the table a long time, during which 
he had overhauled and examined many papers and 
parchments, and made many figures upon a piece of 
paper at his elbow. 

“ Oh !” he groaned, as his hands fell upon his knees. 
“ God only knows what is to be the end ! Could I have 
foreseen, in those other years, all that was to come, I 
should not have had the courage to live ! And even 
now life is a burden most grievous to bear ! These 
papers tell me that I am still wealthy, but how long 
shall it be ? Oh, if that one fatal paper were blotted 
out from existence ! Why has that man been suffered 
to live ? He is but a blight upon the page of humanity 
— a fount of deadly poison in the world of life ! Oh, 
if I could but escape the thralldom of agony which he 
holds upon me ! Alas, the burden grows more heavy, 
and the chains more galling ! Ha !” 

A door was opened, and it was as though the setting 
sun had suddenly burst forth into a warm and radiant 
glow, touching with a pencil of gold everything in 
the grand old room. It was Ninon d’Artois who had 
entered, bringing with her an atmosphere of celestial 
sweetness, and a radiance of loveliness well nigh divine. 


36 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


She was truly a beautiful being. Her age was nine- 
teen, and the years of her life had brought only new 
charms to her person, leaving all that was bright and 
lovely, and bearing away with their departure all that 
could darken and make chill. To a form that was per- 
fect was added a grace that might have befitted a 
Peri ; and to a face that was the very bloom of loveli- 
ness was added a galaxy of dimples that gave almost 
the power of witchery to the features, without in the 
least detracting from their elegance and delicacy. Her 
eyes were large and lustrous ; their color a changeful 
gray — changeful in its intensity, but never in its depth 
of soul and truthful fervor ; and her hair, clustering 
about a head altogether womanly in its refinement of 
poise and outline, was of a golden brown, sweeping 
back from her brow and temples in a wealth of uncon- 
fined, shimmering ringlets. Her garb was a simple 
robe of gray silk, confined at the waist by a silken 
sash curiously wrought with golden thread — a light 
scarf of lace thrown over her shoulders and drawn 
close about the neck ; and the superbly arching foot, 
where it peeped forth from beneath the sweeping robe, 
was shielded by a quaintly wrought Persian shoe — half 
moccasin and half sandal. 

“ Oh, my own, dear, good papa !” she cried, bursting 
all bond of restraint, and giving her father a hug and 
a kiss before suffering him to gain breath of speech. 
“ Have you heard ? Has the messenger been to you 
with the wondrous news ?” 

The marquis made a tremendous effort to put away 
the cloud that had been upon him. The presence of 
his beautiful daughter and her embrace and kiss 
would seem to have been sufficient to give him cheer, 
if anything earthly could do it ; but he was not to be 
lifted into warmth and sunshine so easily. He held 


A FATAL BOND. 


37 


his child away, and tried to smile as he gazed into her 
face. 

“ Darling, what is it ? What new joy is yours ?” 

“ Oh, papa ? Haven’t you heard — hasn’t anybody 
told you — haven’t the birds piped it at your windows — 
that — Louis is come home ?” 

Philip d’Artois staggered back as though he had 
been struck. 

“ Louis de Liancourt !” he gasped, putting forth the 
last atom of his strength to hide his feelings from 
Ninon. 

“ Oh, yes, papa,” she cried, failing to detect the pain 
and the anguish of her father in her own great joy. 
“ Louis has come home. One of his men has hurried 
on in advance to let us know, and he and Martin are to 
come on more slowly. You remember Martin Duval ? 
He has served de Liancourt from childhood, as his 
father and his father’s father did his ancestors before 
him. Poor Louis ! The wicked ruin of his old home has 
driven him to seek shelter here. Oh, papa, papa, now 
you will drive that dreadful old man away and never 
let him come here any more. I do really believe that 
he would have been glad to know that Louis would 
not come home again. Oh, I cannot drive the thought 
away that he wishes ill to our own brave boy. We will 
put Louis on his guard.” 

“ No, no, no !” cried the marquis, with startling 
energy. “ Do not speak his name to Louis. You know 
not what mischief you might do.” 

Thus, by the merest chance had the marquis struck 
a note seemingly legitimate, and which at the same 
time gave him opportunity of hiding his real source of 
disquiet. 

“ Remember,” he went on, very earnestly, '* that this 
man belongs to the class of the Jacobins, while Louis 


38 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


must be a Royalist of the most ultra kind. Leave the 
matter to me, my child — leave it all in my hands.” 

“ Of course I will, papa, for I know that you will do 
all that is brave and good and true. Oh, how grandly 
the old joys come back with the coming of Louis. Do 
you not feel so, papa ? What is it ? Why do you 
tremble, and why are you so pale ? Papa ! Papa ! What 
is it ? Has anything — ” 

“ Hush, my child ! You cannot understand. I can- 
not explain. And — yet — you can see — you can hear 
the dread notes of alarm that fill the air.” 

He paused a moment and drew his hand across his 
eyes. Then he went forward and kissed his child upon 
her forehead, and added in a lower tone and entreat- 
ingly : 

“ Leave me, Ninon, for a little time. I must put 
away these papers before anybody comes. There is 
new trouble and new danger in Paris, and we know not 
how soon the mob may gain full power here in Artois. 
If it comes, we must be prepared to — to — meet it.” 

" Oh, papa ! You were going to say — to flee /” 

“ Hush ! Breathe not that word aloud. Let not the 
walls hear it. Aye — we maybe forced to flee ; but it 
must be kept as secret as the grave ! Be careful, Ninon, 
and breathe not a thought in that direction before any 
human being. One single mistake may be fatal.” 

" Papa, is it so bad ?” . 

“My dear child, I cannot tell you how bad it is ; 
but—” 

He stopped suddenly and caught his breath as though 
a hidden battery had been unmasked before him. 
Ninon followed the direction of his gaze, and saw a 
man approaching the keep from the main entrance to 
the great court. With a quick, low cry of terror, she 
caught her father’s arm. 


A FATAL BOND. 


39 


“ Oh, it is he !” 

Philip d’ Artois made one desperate effort, and 
crushed back the feeling that would else have un- 
manned him. 

“ My dear child, let not your tears make you weak. 
The mayor comes to me on important business. I will 
receive him here directly. Go you forth, and look for 
the coming of Louis. Let him not meet with Gideon 
de Bar. It must not be ! ’Sh ! Ask me nothing. 
There is not a moment to lose. Away, and hang upon 
the boy’s steps. If he arrives before De Bar departs, 
be sure that he is not in sight. Wilt thou attend to 
this ?” 

“ But — my father — ” 

“ I ask you,” interrupted the marquis, with a furious 
stamp of the foot, “ will you go ? Will you do as I 
have said ? Or — ” 

“ Oh — yes, yes, papa — I will go. Do not be angry. 
And — oh — do not let that man ever see me to speak 
with me again !” 

With this Ninon d’ Artois turned and hastened from 
the apartment, and as soon as the door was safely 
closed behind her, the marquis pulled open a large 
drawer from beneath the table and hurriedly tumbled 
into it the letters that lay scattered around. He worked 
eagerly, as though life depended upon the accomplish- 
ment of the task, and before any alarm was sounded, 
the last scrap of paper had been brushed away, and the 
drawer closed. The marquis had done this, and was 
seeking to compose himself for the coming meeting, 
when a servant entered, and announced : 

“ Monsieur le Maire /” 

The time had been when for no man of earth, save 
the king in person, would the door of that library have 
been open without permission from within ; in these 


40 


THE SHADOW OE THE GUILLOTINE. 


days, however, things were different, and the nobleman 
was learning to submit to much that he could not 
direct or control ; and he was wisest who submitted 
with the best grace. 

The man who entered was worth a study. He was 
a few years older than the marquis, though he did 
not show it — probably, five-and-fifty — and the slight 
tendency of the back to stoop was rather an indication 
of the instincts of the inner man, than the result of 
any burden born in life. In stature he was full six 
feet ; heavily framed and ox-like ; and though the 
habits of life of the later years had tended to lay on 
extra adipose tissue, his form was still angular, and his 
humps all prominent. His face was not a face to be 
loved. It was dark and sinister ; the brow low, narrow 
and protruding ; the eyes small, glittering and deeply 
set beneath shaggy arches ; the cheekbones prominent ; 
the nose broad and gross ; the upper lip so long as;to 
disfigure the center of the face, and even the thick 
black mustache could not hide it. Take that face as 
a whole, and it was simply brutish in its animal part, 
and, in its intellectual, it was that of a tyrant and 
monster. His garb was plain, assumed evidently to 
please the Sans Calottes, for in other times, and not 
long agone at that, he had put on a vast amount of 
gold-lace and tinsel. 

Such was Gideon de Bar, at present mayor of Arras. 
In former times he had been a weaver of tapestry, and 
in the manufacture of some of that stuff for which 
Arras had become famous, he had gained a modest 
fortune. People wondered when he was elected mayor, 
and they wondered still more when they found that he 
had powerful influence at court. A very few there 
were who knew that he had won these favors of for- 
tune from the direct intercession of Lord Philip d’Artois. 


A FATAL BOND. 


41 


How he had gained that nobleman’s influence in his 
favor they could not divine. The rabble, however, did 
not think. They recognized in De Bar a man of their 
own stamp, and they were pleased to see him elevated 
to the responsible office. But another thing did not 
please them so well. When Gideon’s son was elevated 
to the position of intendent to the police, they grumbled. 
Gaston de Bar had been himself a youth of dubious 
character, and the only possible recommendation he 
could bring for the office was his knowledge of all the 
rogues of that section. 

Gideon de Bar advanced into the library, and after 
a salutation of easy assurance, he took a seat. His 
first act was to cast his eyes around, to see if he might 
discover anything from which he could derive useful 
information. His quick eye detected ink upon mon- 
seigneur's finger and thumb, and also that the pen had 
been recently in use ; and a close observer could not 
have failed to mark the sinister expression which re- 
sulted from the absence from the table of all traces of 
the writing he had been doing. 

“ D’Artois,” he said, with a freedom of manner 
which was insulting, “ you have been busy.” 

“ I often have business on my hands, sir.” 

“ Aye — no doubt ; but, my dear friend, you must par- 
don me if I claim your attention to a matter of busi- 
ness in which I feel an interest.” 

The marquis could not hide his unrest. A pallor 
overspread his face, and his lips quivered. 

“ Monsieur de Bar, I will attend to what you have to 
say.” 

The visitor lifted his right leg over the left, folded 
his hands upon his knee, and leaned back easily in his 
chair. There was a significant gleaming in the cav- 
ernous eyes, and a sinister expression upon his evil face. 


42 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


“ Citizen d’Artois, I will not hold you in suspense. 
And I could not, if I would, for I have other business 
that must be attended to before I sleep. I wish now 
that the matter of the marriage should be immediately 
fixed and disposed of. My son is ready and anxious, 
and there is no need of further delay. I would have 
the arrangement made this very night — now — while we 
sit here. Let us — ” 

The marquis put out his hand imploringly, and a 
stifled groan burst from his bloodless lips. 

“ Oh, in Heaven’s name, spare me ! Gideon de Bar, 
take all else — take everything — but leave to me my 
child !” 

“ Your child ! Bah !” 

“ Hush ! In the name of all that is holy, I beg you, 
do not say that ! Breathe not the story. Oh, she is mine 
to love, to bless, to protect ! If you have a heart — ” 

De Bar interrupted him with a fierce oath. 

“ Philip d’Artois, I have just one word to say. Lis- 
ten : The hand of Ninon is given to Gaston, or that 
paper is given to the prefecture ! There is no word to 
be spoken aside from that — not a word !” 

The marquis groaned as from a breaking heart. 

“ Is this your courage, man ? By the knife of the 
guillotine, you shall come to my terms, or — ” 

Again the miserable man put forth his hand. De 
Bar arose from his seat and took a turn across the room. 
When he came back he stopped before the host and 
laid his hand upon his shoulder. 

“ I have no time to waste, and if I had much time I 
would not stop here much longer at this visit. Your 
childish folly exasperates me. You know what we 
have planned. It is all fixed, even to the estimate of 
the settlements. It only remains for us to fix the hour, 
and for that I am here.” 


A 1‘ATAL BOND. 


43 

At this point the man paused, but only for an instant. 
Directly, in a brutal, heartless manner, much as you 
have seen a man lift the head of a dog that he was 
trying to teach, he pushed back the marquis’s head, 
thus lifting his face so that he could look into it, and 
then with a stamp of his foot he added : 

“ Philip d’Artois, you know the compact that is 
between us. I have told you that on the day which 
sees Ninon the wife of my son, I will surrender to you 
that paper. And now let me add just this word. If 
you refuse, or if you hesitate so as to perplex me, I will 
give that paper to the prefecture of police. I will 
not give it to the prefect of Arras, but it shall go to the 
Palais de Justice , where the Hotel de la Prefecture de 
Police and the Conciergerie are not far apart.” 

The name of the prefecture in such intimate connec- 
tion with that most dreadful of all the dungeon prisons 
of Paris was horrible, and the marquis uttered a low 
cry of absolute terror. 

“ Philip d’Artois, mark me ! The king and queen 
are prisoners in the Temple, and they will go from 
there to the scaffold. Your Marquis de la Fayette has 
been given up to the Austrians, who have him safe in 
a deep dungeon at Olmutz. Oho ! What will the 
Jacobins say to the Marquis of St. Omer — the grand 
Philip d’Artois — when they know that his hand took 
the life of—” 

“ Demon ! Beast ! Cease !” 

“ Hold, Citizen d’Artois,” said De Bar, pressing the 
marquis back into his seat. “ Before you arise, I desire 
that you will sign this paper. Do that and I will leave 
you.” 

The paper was spread out upon the table, and d’Ar- 
tois found it to be a contract of marriage between 
Gaston de Bar, Intendent of Arras, and the Lady Ninon 


44 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


d’Artois, of the chateau of St. Jean. It was in full 
legal form, and only wanted the signature of Philip 
d’Artois to render it of full and entire legal effect. 
And then the dark presence took from an inner pocket 
of his bosom another paper — a paper old and soiled, and 
stained with blood. This he opened, but not within the 
marquis’s reach. 

“ Philip d’Artois, there is the pen, and there is the 
ink. Write your name and live ! Refuse and — ” 

The marquis cried out in his agony, and in a moment 
more the pen was in his hand. How he wrote his name 
he did not know. He only knew that he wrote, and 
that Gideon de Bar caught up the contract and refolded 
it. His head sank forward upon the table, and directly 
afterward he felt a hand upon his shoulder. 

“ Monseigneur, look ye ! Think not of escape ! From 
this time until the marriage ceremony is performed, 
thou wilt not take a step unwatched. Remember !” 

When the marquis looked up he was alone. He 
arose to his feet, but he was weaker than he thought. 
His brain reeled, and objects swam before him ; but he 
did not fall. He regained his seat, and rang a bell, 
and when his valet appeared he called for wine. He 
had come very near to fainting, but a great need was 
upon him, and he had strength sufficient to collect his 
scattered senses, and win back tone and energy to his 
nerves. 

That fatal paper, held by the man who, in holding it, 
held his life ! It was the thought of that which called 
back his energies. The marriage contract was as 
nothing by its side. What could he do? Was there in 
the broad field of chance any way of escape ? 

And he lifted his face and his clasped hands to 
Heaven, and prayed as he never, in all his life, had 
prayed before. 



CHAPTER IV. 

NINON BECOMES PARTY TO A BOND ON HER OWN ACCOUNT. 

Leaving her father in the library, the Lady Ninon 
went out into the great hall, and thence to a passage 
that led toward a small garden-spot which was culti- 
vated for her especial benefit. The sun was disappear- 
ing when she reached the open air, and upon the small 
piazza overlooking the garden she found her maid 
whom she sought. 

Blanchette Lefranc was a small, trim, bright-eyed 
grisette , eighteen years of age, the daughter of an old 
servitor of the household, and born and reared on the 
estate. She had been Ninon’s companion from early 
childhood, and her most happifying thought in the 
present was of the service which she was permitted to 
render to one whom she loved with a love approaching 
to idolatry. She was a brave, true-hearted girl, and in 
the care of her mistress she knew no such thing as 
fear. Had mortal danger threatened Ninon d’ Artois, 
here was one who would have cast her life, if necessary, 
into the balance without a moment’s hesitation. She 
was a pretty girl, her eyes sparkling with changeful 
light, her face wreathed in infectious smiles, and her 
voice as tuneful as the song of the happy lark. 

[45] 


46 


THE SHADOW Of THE GtltLLofiNE, 


“ Come, Blanchette, bring* our mantles, and we will 
walk out beyond the bridge.” 

Away sped the girl, soon returning with the articles 
required. She adjusted the mantle of her mistress, 
and then donned her own, after which they took their 
way toward the drawbridge. 

The river which watered the estate here ran in such 
a manner as to make the fosse on the southern side of 
the castle, and the bridge spanned that stream. Be- 
yond the bridge they reached a graveled way which 
led to the great road, and here Ninon slackened her 
pace. The sun had gone from sight, but it would not 
be dark for some time to come, for the bright orb was 
now hidden by the trees and hills, so that the true 
horizon was yet to be reached. At a short distance — 
perhaps a hundred rods or more — from the great gates 
of the chateau , the path branched off into three routes, 
one leading to strike the main road to the eastward, 
toward Arras ; another leading to the westward, join- 
ing the highway toward the bridge of Cressy ; while 
the third was a direct continuation of the path to the 
southward. Here stood several large trees, with 
wooden seats arranged beneath them, and Ninon pro- 
posed that they should stop and sit down. 

“ Dear Blanchette, I am not tired. I do not sit to 
rest. Do you know why we have come out here ?” 

“ No, my lady.” 

“ And you have not asked me ?” 

“ Because, lady, I had thought that what I ought to 
know you would tell me ; and surely I would not seek 
to know that which you would keep to yourself.” 

“ Dear, good Blanchette ! Thou art a treasure. But 
I have no secret from thee. I have come out here to 
waylay and intercept a traveller.” 

The girl, who had not yet sat down, laid her hand 


NINON BECOMES PARTY TO A BOND. 47 

upon her mistress’s shoulder, and the light that danced 
in her bright eyes was sparkling and vivacious. 

“ Dear lady, it is the Count Louis ?” 

“Yes, Blanchette.” 

And the eyes of the mistress sparkled likewise. 

“And — Martin Duval comes with him ?” 

“Certainly. While those two live they will be in- 
separable. They are as strongly attached to one 
another as you and I are attached.” 

“ I know it. Oh, it is easy to love a man like Sir 
Louis. I wonder not that Martin is proud to hold his 
stirrup.” 

Ninon’s cheeks glowed at this and her look was 
grateful. 

“ Oh,” cried the maid, when she had at length seated 
herself, “ what does the mayor of Arras do here ? 
Why do I dislike that man so terribly ? Am I to 
blame ?” 

“ Blanchette, that man is hard and wicked and — 
But let us not think of him. It gives me pain to see 
him.” 

“ Aye,” ventured the maid, with downright emphasis, 
“ and it gives your father pain, too. I wonder what 
his business is. Suppose he should be pleading for 
his son — trying to win the hand of Ninon d’Artois for 
Gaston de Bar ?” 

“ Blanchette !” 

“ Dear lady. Oh, mercy on me ! Have I hurt you ?” 

“ No, no, dear girl ; but your speech touches a more 
serious matter than you may think. Gaston de Bar, or 
his father for him, has had the effrontery to make a 
proposal for my hand.” 

“ Oh, no, no, no ! Don’t say that, dear Ninon. It is 
not possible.” 

“ It is not only possible, dear child, but it is abso- 


48 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


lutely true. Aye — the mayor of Arras thinks himself 
a grand man in the realm, and he thinks the intendent 
of police great, also.” 

“ But, Ninon, I do not understand. I should think 
the marquis — the highest noble, save one, in Artois — 
would cause Gideon de Bar to be whipped out from the 
town. I see not how he can endure it. Is his old 
spirit growing weak within him ?” 

“ Alas ! My poor child, you do not know what wicked 
things are being done in France. The mob rules in 
Paris. Have you not heard tell of Robespierre and 
Marat and Danton ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, those men are above the king now.” 

“ Oh, no, no ! Dear Ninon, you do not mean that !” 

“ It is true, Blanchette.” 

“ 1 hey — those men — above the king ?" 

“ Even so. But I cannot explain. I tremble for my 
father. I know he fears Gideon de Bar. The Jacobin -; 
hate the nobles, and the Jacobins rule France. They 
have full power and authority in the National Assem- 
bly— ah ! Hark !” 

It was the sound of horses’ feet in the distance, borne 
far upon the evening air ; for it was some minutes be- 
fore the riders reached the forks of the road, and when 
they came up, the light of day had gone, and the glim- 
mer of twilight was growing dim and shadowy. The 
girls arose and went out into the path, causing the 
horse of the foremost rider to leap aside with a force 
that came near unseating the occupant of the saddle. 

“ Hallo ! Whom have we here ?” 

Oh, how well Ninon knew the voice — so rich and full 
and musical ! She took another step forward and 
spoke, and as she did so, the horse, as though recog- 
nizing the character of the intruder, came to a quiet 


NINON BECOMES PARTY TO A BOND. 


49 


stand, with his ears pricked and his nostrils dis- 
tended. 

“ My Lord de Liancourt, I have come to give you 
safe conduct to the castle.” 

Louis de Liancourt leaped from his saddle in an in- 
stant, and in a moment more he held both the lady’s 
hands. 

“ Ninon !” 

“Yes, Louis.” 

By the last glimmer of the fading twilight he could 
see her face, that it was the face of one who had been 
the subject of his waking and sleeping dreams through 
passing years and in lands beyond the ocean. Had it 
been lighter than it was — had there been light enough 
to clearly reveal the woman that had grownup to meet 
him on his return to the old chateau — he might have 
been startled ; but as it was, in the half-light, the 
shadowy, softening haze, he saw only the girl he had 
left when he went away, for he saw with his memory 
rather than with the outer sense. So he called her 
name again, and then — it seemed to come of itself, as 
though the creature of a double consciousness — he took 
her in his arms and held her to his bosom and kissed 
her upon the lips just as he had kissed her in the other 
years, when they were laughing happy children to- 
gether. 

“Ninon! Ninon! My own — my blessed! Oh, 
Ninon, this is joy celestial !” 

And she rested there as though it were her sacred 
right ; and she returned the lover’s kiss with the fervor 
of a love as deep and strong as life itself. The whole 
story was told without the speaking of a word, and in 
that kiss they both felt that their vows had been 
plighted beyond recall. 

“ Martin !” 


50 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


The stout esquire heard the flute-like call, and he, 
too, came down from his saddle in a twinkling. 

“ My little woodland fairy !” he cried, catching the 
girl's hand. “ It is my true Blanchette !” 

“ But is this my true Martin ?” 

“ Aye ! In all my wanderings, little one, not a lass 
has banished you from my thoughts. So I claim my 
right.” 

And Blanchette was as happy as happy could be. 
True heart ! She loved this man, and she had faith to 
believe that he loved her in return, truly and well, and 
her kiss was frank and loyal. 

Louis de Liancourt put one arm through the loop of 
his bridle-rein, and the other he gave to Ninon, who 
took it with both her hands, pressing it eagerly to her 
bosom, and holding it there as though she feared to let 
it go. 

“ Little one,” said Martin, chucking the grisette under 
the chin, “do you see that ? That is the proper way. 
Wait. Now — you have my arm. Do not bite it ?” 

And thus copying the master and the mistress, those 
two followed on, oblivious to all earthly care, and 
thoughtful only of the grand things which were per- 
mitted to their lot once in many years. And they 
were not an ill-looking pair. There was a startling 
difference in size of body, Blanchette seeming little 
more than a child as she reached up to lay her finger-tips 
upon Martin's arm. She was considerably shorter than 
her mistress, and Martin was taller than his master ; 
but that made no difference to them. He was content 
with a precious jewel in small compass, and she was 
perfectly willing to lean upon the protection of one 
strong enough to guard her from all ordinary danger. 

And, further than this, those two were not selfish 
enough to think alone of themselves ; and as we have 


fefcCOMES PARTY TO A BOND. 51 

no thought of following them in their way of loving 
and wooing, we can do no less than make clear the 
path laid out before them. We ought to do this, that 
they be not harshly judged by and by, and again, the 
scene was pleasant enough to transcribe. 

“ Ma belle” said Martin, after he had marked the 
girl’s grasp of his arm until he had satisfied himself 
that there was heart and fervor in it, “ do you love your 
mistress ?” 

“ What a question !” 

“ Give me an answer. Do you love her ?” 

“ I do not love myself at all by her side. Ah, I 
would give my life for Ninon ?” 

Had there been light enough, the girl might have 
read Martin’s jubilant gratitude in his look, but she 
was not wholly in the dark. 

“ Now look ye, little one : I love Louis de Liancourt 
with all the love of my heart and soul ; and I do not 
think I shall ever leave him.” 

“ Nor shall I ever leave my mistress.” 

“ And, ma belle, you see how they love one another ?” 

“ Ah, I know that she loves him ; but does he love 
her as well ? Is his heart as true ?” 

“ Blanchette, it is wrong for you to express a possible 
doubt. His love is a part of himself. For years I 
have known his every thought, and the image of Ninon 
d’Artois he has carried in his heart all the time.” 

“ I am glad of that. Ninon will be very happy.” 

“Yes, my little bird, and she will become his wife. 
Now, when that event comes to pass, what shall you 
and I do. Shall we separate ? Shall you leave your 
mistress — because, you know, I shall never leave my 
master.” 

“ Ah, traitor, you are seeking to entrap me !” 

“ Not at all, little one. The way is open before you. 


52 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


You have my arm now to lean upon. I offer it to you 
for a lifetime. If the Lady Ninon becomes the wife 
of De Liancourt, will you let me call you by the same 
sweet title ?” 

And that was the end of their downright courtship. 
When they entered the rear court of the chateau , all 
was settled between them for the future, and they were 
ready to go on serving the master and the mistress of 
their hearts, with the understanding that the marriage 
of Louis and Ninon should be supplemented by their 
own union. 

And during that walk to the chateau , Louis de Lian- 
court had told his eager listener a running story of 
his experience in the United States of America. He 
had been eighteen years of age when he left France 
for America, in company with several noblemen of 
distinction who had thought of making that country 
their home. As for himself, he had been commissioned 
by the Marquis de La Fayette to act for him in matters 
of business, and, furthermore, he has been moved by a 
desire to study the workings of the new Republic. He 
had been absent five years, and had now returned at 
the earnest solicitation of his patron and friend, La 
Fayette. 

“ Dear girl,” he said, pressing the hand that lay so 
confidingly upon his arm close against his bosom, “ the 
memory of your sweet self would have called me back, 
sooner or later, if I could not have persuaded you to 
cross the ocean to me ; but this summons of the mar- 
quis was imperative. He wrote to me that there was 
earnest work for every true and loyal heart. He would 
save France ! Ah ! I fear there is great danger. I 
have learned much since I landed at Calais. Do 
you know where La Fayette is at this present 
time ?” 


NINON BECOMES PARTY TO A BOND. 


53 


“ You know that the allied forces of Austria and 
Prussia are marching- against the French capital ?” 

“Yes — I have been told so.” 

“ It is true. La Fayette has command of the French 
army, under control of the Assembly, and is now at 
Sedan.” 

“ Then there I must join him.” 

A faint, half-stifled cry broke from Ninon’s lips, and 
had sounded upon the still air before she could 
recall it. It was full of heartfelt anxiety and soli- 
citude — just such a cry as might have dropped from the 
lips of a young wife whose husband had told her for 
the first time that he was going into deadly strife. 

“ Ninon !” cried the count, stopping short and gazing 
down upon the upturned face, “ would you care if evil 
befell me ?” 

She clung to him convulsively. In an instant the 
whole prospect of life was before her, and in all the 
future, from horizon to zenith, there appeared but one 
star of promise. Things were in her knowledge, mak- 
ing bitter and gloomsome many a meditative hour, 
which she could not speak to another — which she dared 
not even speak to him — but oh, how could she keep back 
her heart from this direct appeal? She could not doit. 

“ Oh, Louis ! Dear Louis ! Darling ! Where in all 
the world could I turn if thou wert taken from me ?” 

He would have been oblivious, indeed, had he asked 
for more free and frank confession than that. He took 
the dear girl again to his bosom, and did not let her go 
until they were aroused by the tramp of a horse on the 
castle bridge. 

“ Mercy !” cried Ninon, with a start. “ It is the 
mayor of Arras, Gideon de Bar ! He must not see us. 
My father sent me forth to meet you on purpose that I 
might lead you clear of that man.” 


54 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


“ Gideon de Bar ! Mayor of Arras !” 

“ Yes. Ah, Louis, strange things have happened 
since you went away ! But — here ! We have no time 
to lose. Let your horses be got out of the way. We 
can take this path.” 

It was a narrow by-path, branching off toward an old 
mill-tower not far distant, and when they had entered 
upon it they were completely hidden from the view of 
one passing on the main road. Presently the horse- 
man was in sight, distinctly outlined against a spot of 
blue sky, and as he approached he muttered to himself. 
By a wondrous chance, the first word distinguished 
from his lips was the name of one who was near by to 
hear. 

Plainly he was heard to mutter a bitter imprecation, 
and then : 

“ Of all living men, he was the last I could have de- 
sired to see. But — Sir Count, be not too sure of fair 
weather in France. Aha ! If I can find a plea — if I 
can find ground for a complaint — bah ! I have it 
already. The very name of de Liancourt is sufficient. 
I have thee on the hip, Master Louis !” 

Ninon quivered from head to foot, but she had pres- 
ence of mind enough to cling to her hold upon Louis. 
Once he would certainly have confronted the Jacobin 
hound had not her hand been firmly and resolutely 
upon his arm. 

“Ah !” ejaculated our hero after the man had passed 
on, which he did without making any discovery, “ what 
has that man on his mind ? What has he been doing 
with your father ? Say — is he not a villain ?” 

“ Yes, Louis. I believe him to be all that is bad.” 

“ Sdeath ! Can he have — ” 

These few words were spoken impetuously, and the 
count stopped suddenly and grasped Ninon by the 


NINON BECOMES PARTY TO A BOND. 


00 


arm and gazed into her face. He could not see very 
plainly, but so near he could see sufficiently. And so 
could the lady. She could see that Louis’s face was 
wrought upon by a powerful emotion, and that a great 
dread was at his heart. After a little time he said : 

“ Ninon, I recall to mind a circumstance that gives 
me trouble. Gideon de Bar, in the other years, con- 
trived in some manner to gain a power over your 
father. I never could understand its nature or extent, 
but I know that it was effective, and it gave your father 
much unrest. Then, however, De Bar always appeared 
very friendly — too much so, in fact. At times he was 
really patronizing. Can he have that power now ? And 
can he exert it for evil ?” 

A great light, bewildering and painful, burst upon 
Ninon. She could understand now things that had 
before appeared only dark and incomprehensible. The 
man held her father in his power. 

“ Oh, Louis, let us hasten to my father. I know that 
he fears that man. The coming of Gideon de Bar is to 
him like the coming of a thunder-cloud. But he has 
never explained to me. I know he needs help. I can 
see it plainly in a hundred events of the past few 
months. And, dear love ” — she caught him by the arm 
convulsively and her voice sank to a horrified whisper 
as she went on — “ you remember Gaston — Gideon’s 
son ?” 

“ Aye — the darkly-born boy he was obliged to own. 
I remember him well. I horsewhipped him once for 
insulting our little Blanchette. My faith, if Martin 
had known, he would have killed him. But what of 
him ?” 

She whispered it in broken, choking gasps : 

“ He has proposed to my father that my hand shall 
be given in marriage to Gaston.” 


56 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

“ No — no ! Oh, Great Father of all mercies, it can- 
not be !” 

“And yet, it is even so !” 

“ k He ! The base-born ! The dog ! The dreg of 
the pool of iniquity ! Oh, my soul ! And this man — 
the manipulator — is mayor of Arras ; and his son is 
intendent of police ! The mob holds rule in France, 
and they are powerful with the mob ! Look at my 
own chateau ! Oh, I dare not think ! Let us hasten 
to your father. He shall tell us all. We must know 
the intent of this bad man.” 

They had reached the bridge, when Ninon stopped 
and took her lover’s free hand. 

“ Louis, we will go in and see my father ; I will ful- 
fill the mission he gave me ; and then I will withdraw 
and leave you with him alone. He will speak to you 
as he would not speak to me ; and to yourself alone he 
will speak as he would not speak in my presence.” 

“ It is well, my love, and it shall be as you say.” 

“ One word more, Louis : If there is danger, you 
will not go on to Sedan ?” 

“ Hush, Ninon ! Oh, do not raise an unnecessary 
calamity in my path. Remember my duty to France.” 

“ But — if — if — Gideon de Bar should have power, 
and my father should be forced to give my hand to — ” 

A wild cry broke from the count’s lips. 

“ Hush, in Heaven’s name ! It cannot— cannot be. 
But, if that pass should come, then not all the power 
of all the world should call me from your side !” 

“ She suffered him to imprint a token of good faith 
upon her lips, and then they moved on toward the 
chateau . 



CHAPTER V. 

THE UNLOCKING OF A DARK SECRET. 

The marquis heard approaching footsteps, and with 
one final effort he put back the terrible perturbation, 
and was much like himself when Ninon entered. 
She did not fly to him, as she might have done, if no 
cloud had come to dim the glorious sunbeam of the new 
arrival, but her face was joyous, notwithstanding, and 
she threw her arms around her father’s neck, and kissed 
him upon the cheek. 

“ Papa, he has come — our Louis. Oh, are you not 
glad?” 

For a single instant it was as though a knife had 
been plunged into the man’s body. He could not mis- 
take the joy-beams upon his daughter’s face nor the 
warm, soft tremor of her voice. As though it had been 
written in characters of living light before him, he read 
the story of her love. But he was used to efforts of 
self-control, and he very quickly advanced and greeted 
the count with a smile, and with words of heartfelt 
welcome. 

“ My dear boy ! Ah ” — holding the count’s hand, and 

f 57] 


58 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


looking into the manly, healthily embrowned face — 
“ you will be my boy no more. Bless me ! How the 
years have flown. You left me a fair-faced youth, 
more fit for the salon than for the field, and you return 
to me a grand-looking man, inured to toil and danger 
and hardship. Louis, I bid you welcome, now for all 
time — a thousand times, if you please.” 

Her father’s greeting gave Ninon much comfort. 
Surely, Gideon de Bar could not have left him with 
any painful load upon his mind, or he would have 
shown something of it. 

Ah, little did she think of the truth — of the fact of 
the human constitution — that those calamities which 
come nearest to making death a welcome guest are the 
ones which can be most surely put entirely out of 
sight. They are so terrible that they admit of no 
particle of thought without the presence of the whole 
great horror ; so, from mere force of necessity, the 
whole is crushed under foot and out of sight. Had it 
been a lesser evil — had Gideon de Bar left the marquis 
with some simple matter of perplexing business on his 
mind — some tangle of the law that was calculated to 
fret and chafe him, he might not have hidden it so 
easily. As it was, however, as soon as the ice was 
broken, Philip d’Artois was all smiles and good-humor, 
the sharp pangs that ever and anon touched him to the 
heart not being allowed to appear upon the surface. 

Louis told the story of his adventures in America, 
and he could tell them very briefly. He had gone to that 
country, upon the urgent recommendation of the Mar- 
quis de La Fayette, to complete his education at Prince- 
ton College, in New Jersey. That college had been 
especially recommended by Benjamin Franklin, Thomas 
Jefferson and Henry Lee, and he had found it all he 
had been led to expect. Concerning the call that had 


THE UNLOCKING OF A DARK SECRET. 


59 


brought him home, it had not come entirely unexpect- 
edly. Said he : 

“ I had been thinking very strongly of coming when 
I received La Fayette’s letter. I felt that every true 
Frenchman should be at his post of duty. Yet,” he 
went on, with a change of tone to grave sadness, “ now 
that I am here, the path of duty is not so plain. I find 
my paternal estate in ruins, the grand old chateau of 
twenty generations of Liancourts a pile of charred and 
blackened debris. And who have done it ? The men 
who rule France to-day. The Assembly is the seat of 
power, and the Jacobin club rules the Assembly. Is it 
not so, my lord ?” 

“ It is, Louis ; and more, too ; but we will talk of that 
by and by. I want you now to tell me of those good 
men on the other side of the ocean whom I have 
learned to love and revere. Tell me of Doctor Benjamin 
Rush. You made his acquaintance ?” 

“Most assuredly, and prized it highly.” 

And Louis went on and told of his friends in Amer- 
ica, until they were summoned to the banquet-room. 
The meal passed pleasantly, the marquis exerting him- 
self to the utmost, and at its conclusion, Sir Philip laid 
his hand upon his daughter’s head, and said, with a 
pleasant smile : 

“ My blessing, you must let me have Louis a little 
while to myself. There are some matters of business 
— of politics and of the army — that we must discuss in 
private. You will not be jealous ?’* 

“Just the opposite, papa. I think you ought to talk 
with Louis. You ought to — but you know belter than 
I do. I shall speak to him good-night before he re- 
tires ?” 

“ Really, my child, I do not know. But you shall, if 
you are up when we come out, though you must not 


60 


THE SHADOW OF THB GUILLOTINE. 


wait for us. I think, on the whole, that you had better 
leave the count till morning. He will be rested then.” 

Ninon took it all in good part, but she watched her 
opportunity, and had a grandly-oceupied spell of whis- 
pering with her lover before the library door had been 
shut and bolted between them. 

Aye — shut and bolted ; for no sooner had the mar- 
quis pointed Sir Louis to a seat than he returned to the 
door by which they had entered and slipped the bolt, 
and then secured another door communicating with a 
retiring-room, after which he was careful to draw the 
curtains over the Gothic windows. When he finally 
came to his seat — a great easy-chair by the side of the 
table on which candles were burning — the smile had 
faded from his face, and it was plain to be seen that he 
was the victim of a deeply-fixed terror. 

“ Be not surprised, my dear Louis, at these precau- 
tions. We have much to talk about this evening that 
must not be heard by other ears. I know not yet how 
much, or how little, I may have to communicate. 
There have been times when I have felt that if I could 
not find a sympathizing spirit to which I could pour 
out the burden of my bursting bosom, I should die. 
Oh, Louis, these are dark days ! And they come upon 
me a thousand times more darkly than they come upon 
others. In the time long gone by there was — but 
never mind that now. Tell me what you have seen 
and heard since you crossed the channel. I saw that 
there was something upon your mind which you cared 
not to speak in Ninon’s presence. Was I not right?” 

“ Yes,” said the count. 

And thereupon he went on to tell the story of his 
adventure in the gravel-pit of the wood. He had landed 
at Calais on the morning of the previous day, and was 
making the best of his way to St. Jean when he fell 


THE UNLOCKING OK A DARK SECRET. 


61 


•upon the assassins, and when every principle of chivalry 
and right, as well as of humanity, demanded that he 
should draw his sword in defense of the weak and the 
honest against the stronger villains and cutthroats. 

The marquis listened attentively and strove hard to 
gain such knowledge of the parties engaged as might 
enable him to recognize them. Of the two travellers 
he could make nothing. Evidently, he said, the smaller 
man, in olive green, was a Jacobin spy ; but he could 
form no opinion of the other, though he would have 
given much to see him. As for the four assassins, 
there could be no doubt that they were of the Brother- 
hood of the Heart and the Dagger. 

“ My dear Louis,” he said, his look and tone revealing 
that he was greatly moved, “ I cannot blame you for 
what you have done, but oh, I would have given half 
my fortune if you had been anywhere else just then. 
You say one of the villains escaped with life, and that 
you heard him called Jacques. Was he a large-framed 
man ?” 

“ A very giant in size, my lord.” 

“ Ah ! I know the man. If you are found here at 
the end of four-and-twenty hours, your head is doomed 
to fall.” 

“ Sir Philip !” 

“ It is as I have said, Louis. Base and low and 
wretched as were these four assassins, they were but 
the agents of men high in social position and authority, 
and the avenger will be upon your track. Do not look 
incredulous. If you think they can find it impossible 
to convict a nobleman in France upon the evidence you 
are mistaken.” 

“ But, my dear marquis, where is the crime ?” 

“ Alas, dear boy, you have yet to learn the condition 
of your country. That you are a nobleman, of the 


62 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


blood of Liancourt and Miremont, is crime enough. 
But the mob hold rule. The order of the day is mas- 
sacre ! You must flee while there is time.” 

“ I will go at once to Sedan, and there join La 
Fayette. With him I shall be safe.” 

The marquis groaned aloud. 

“Ah, now, Louis, I can make you understand ! You 
will not find La Fayette at Sedan, though the French 
army is there. First, let me tell you : The king and 
queen are prisoners ! Aye — prisoners ! They are con- 
fined in the old fortress of the Knights Templars, and 
guards are stationed over them. The same power — 
the Revolutionary mob — that imprisoned the king and 
queen sent commissioners to the army to preach their 
incendiary doctrines to the soldiers. La Fayette, as 
soon as he knew what those commissioners were doing, 
had them arrested and imprisoned. That was the end 
of his military rule. He had won the deadly enmity 
of the murderous mob, and they cried out boldly for 
his life. His crime was, that he would support the 
Constitution against anarchy and ruin. He was forced 
to flee from France to save his life. The treacherous 
Austrians caught him, and he is now a prisoner in a 
noisome dungeon in Olmutz. There is the noble La 
Fayette — the man who would give his life to-day for 
the good of his beloved France. Louis, you must flee.” 

Our hero sat for some moments in silence. His 
thoughts were in a bewildering whirl. By and by he 
suddenly caught his breath, and carried his hand to 
his brow. 

“ Sir Philip,” he said, speaking in a low tone, but 
very distinctly. “ Gideon de Bar has been with you 
to-day. What have we to fear from him ?” 

The marquis uttered a quick, low cry of pain, as 
though a dagger had pierced his bosom, and a wild, 


THE UNLOCKING OF A DARK SECRET. 


63 


h a ggai*d look overspread his face. A few moments so, 
and then he started up and paced to and fro across the 
room, his head bent, and his hands clasped convulsively. 

The count saw how terribly he was affected, and, if 
he could prevent it, he did not mean that d’Artois 
should regain sufficient composure to close his lips, so 
he gave another turn to the winding of the rack. 

“ My dear Marquis, I have not been blind. Do not 
think that the years have passed and left me ignorant 
of the fact that Gideon de Bar holds a terrible power 
over your peace of mind. Oh, if you would confide in 
me — if you would let me help you — ” 

“ Louis !” cried the agonized man, stopping before 
the youth, and gazing upon him with a wild, dazed 
expression, “ there is no help for me ! Oh, if I could 
die — if I could, by dying, wipe out the past, I could lay 
me down to the sacrifice with joy supreme. Oh, it is 
dreadful, dreadful !” 

Louis de Liancourt found his worst fears realized. 
He was now sure that De Bar held the fatal power. 
The youth’s next thought was : How was the heartless 
tyrant using his power ? To what end ? Enough had 
been told him, and he had seen enough else, to give 
direction to his suspicions. He arose to his feet and 
laid his hand upon the marquis’s shoulder. 

“Philip d’ Artois, answer me the question 1 shall 
ask frankly and truly. Answer me, I beg — aye, I com- 
mand ! Gideon de Bar has used the power he possesses 
to extort from you money ?” 

“Yes,” said Sir Philip, eagerly. 

“ And he has compelled you to lend your political 
influence to elevate him to office ?” 

“ Yes, yes,” but not quite so eagerly as before. Then 
he had evidently hoped that that was to be the only 
question, but now it appeared otherwise. 


64 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


Aye — for presently De Liancourt went on, with an 
earnestness that was not to be slighted : 

“And now — now, Sir Philip, the man demands the 
hand of your daughter for his son ? He asks you to 
give Ninon d’ Artois to be the wife of Gaston ? Is it 
not so ?” 

“ Oh, Heaven have mercy ! Yes.” 

And the wretched man sank down into his seat, and 
buried his face in his hands. His groans were heart- 
rending, and his agony terrible. 

Louis sat down and took the marquis’s hand, and he 
spoke with kindness and with infinite tenderness : 

“ Sir Philip, you are all that is left to me of earth in 
whom I can repose the love and the trustfulness of a 
son. Will you not be a father tome ? Oh, I will love 
you with my whole soul, and my whole strength, and I 
will serve you as I would serve an own, dearly loved 
parent. Let us help one another. Let us work to- 
gether. If you will trust me with the story of this 
most unfortunate situation, I will bind myself by the 
word of a man that never broke the faith to keep your 
secret while you will have it so. I know there could 
have been no intentional evil — no willing crime — on 
your part, no matter what the hold may be. Aye — I 
am not afraid, at this moment, knowing alone what I 
do know, to solemnly avouch for the truth and honor 
of Philip d’Artois !” 

“ God bless you, my son ! God bless you !” cried the 
marquis, catching Louis’s hand and pressing it to his 
bosom. “ As true as there is a heaven above us, you 
might give your word of avouchment without fear.” 

“ Then why not unbosom yourself to me and let me 
help you to bear the burden ? Oh, you know that I 
have loved that dear girl well and truly ! I love her 
now with the whole strength of my being, and I have 



“ MY LORD DE LIANCOURT, I HAVE COME TO GIVE YOU SAFE CONDUCT TO THE CASTLE .” — See Page 








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THE UNLOCKING OF A DARK SECRET. 


65 


told her so. The declaration burst from my lips as 
though of its own accord.” 

“ And she — Ninon ?” whispered the marquis, gasp- 
ingly, seeming to have his gaze fixed on some object 
far beyond the then present surroundings. 

“ My dear Sir Philip, I do not need to tell you where 
Ninon’s heart is. I do not flatter myself when I say 
it, but I speak the words of soberness and solemnity — 
Ninon’s whole hope of life is bound up in her love for 
me. It is a love with her as it is with me, she has 
frankly told me this very night. Ah, meeting, as we 
did, in the dusky shadows of fading twilight, it was not 
apparent to sight how we had grown. We saw not 
with the eyes, but with our hearts. We gathered our 
feelings, not from reason, but from the awakened voice 
of the old love. Oh, it was as natural as the opening 
of the withering rose-leaf to the dews of heaven ! She 
rested upon my bosom, as she had never before, and, 
as never before, I kissed her upon the lips. It was the 
instinctive sanctification of the love that had possessed 
our hearts through the years of our growing maturity 
— the pledge of the faith which those hearts yielded be- 
tween the man and the woman. What can I say more ? 
Surely, my lord, you have anticipated this relation. In 
those other years, if you did not directly give me en- 
couragement by spoken word, you did not dash the 
cup from my lips, which you surely would have done 
had you seen that I was quaffing of the erotic cup only 
to my own unhappiness.” 

When the marquis spoke again his words were sad 
almost to weeping. 

“ Never, never, Louis, did I give you a spoken word 
of encouragement. I had no right.” 

“ No right ! In mercy’s name what does that 
mean ?” 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 




“Hush! Oh, let me think. Give me a few brief 
moments, Louis, and I will try if I can see my way. 
Oh, what agony is this !” 

He started again across the room, and so continued 
for several minutes, pacing to and fro, wringing his 
hands at times as though he could tear out his poor life 
with right good will, while incoherent murmurings fell 
from his lips. At length he stopped, stood for a little 
time irresolute, and then resumed his seat. 

“ Louis,” he said, his voice husky and tremulous, 
“ since 1 have been upon the floor I have lived over 
the agony of a lifetime, and in one direction I have 
resolved to suffer no more. I will no longer bear the 
killing burden alone. Should anything happen to cut 
short my days unexpectedly, one man, at least, shall 
know the very truth of a circumstance that may be 
given to the world against me. When I have told the 
story you will know why I could never have given you 
verbal promise of Ninon’s hand. You shall listen, and 
you shall then decide whether you will persist in your 
suit. If you should so persist, we must contrive some 
way of flight from France. We will succeed or fall 
together.” 

“ My father,” said the count, reaching forth and 
grasping the marquis’s hand, “let me give you one 
assurance in advance. Nothing that you can tell me, 
I care not what its nature, can swerve me from my faith 
of love and devotion to Ninon.” 

“ Ah, my boy, be not too sure. And yet,” the old 
nobleman added, with a change in his manner, a sub- 
dued and softened expression, “ she is as true and pure 
as the angels in heaven.” 

“ Thank God ! Now go on, Sir Philip. Let me hear 
the story. You know you can trust me. I pledge you 
my faith in advance ; and I furthermore pledge myself 


THE UNLOCKING OF A DARK SECRET. 


67 


that I will stand by you to the end. Your dangers 
shall be my dangers, and we will succeed or fail together. 
But we will not fail. If the worst comes, I have dear 
friends in England, and from England we can go to 
that glorious land of liberty and independence, the 
United States of America, where we shall find open 
arms and warm hearts on every hand.” 

This last speech seemed to touch the marquis in the 
right spot. It reached down and found the very hope 
that needed to be lifted up. 

“America !” he repeated, solemnly. “Oh, I think in 
that fair land, with you and Ninon for my support, I 
could find a peace and joy which have been strange 
to me for many, many years. Listen to me, Louis, for 
I must tell the story before the courage fails me.” 

But an interruption came. Before Sir Philip could 
speak further there came a knock upon the door, and 
in answer to the demand of who was there, the old 
warder responded that it was he. The marquis arose 
with an exclamation of impatience, and went to the 
door and withdrew the bolt. And these were the cir- 
cumstances : 

Of late the warder of the chateau had had orders 
that no stranger was to be admitted within the gates 
after nightfall, except by permission of the master ; 
and now there were two Franciscan friars without who 
earnestly begged food and shelter. 

“ Tell me, good Nicolas, what do they look like ?” 

The old warrior shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Well, my lord, much like their fellows in general. 
They are dirty rascals, gray as a pair of badgers, 
though not so fat. I don’t think they would steal any- 
thing which they could not reach, and we should be 
careful not to set temptation in their way.” 

It was a wonder that the lord of the great castle 


68 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


should hesitate in such a case, but he did, and he did it 
from an inner prompting which he could not put away. 
But he overcame the feeling, and gave directions that 
the mendicants should be admitted and fed, and a place 
of rest given them for the night. 

After the warder had gone, he said to the count : 

“ There, Louis, if any evil follows in the tracks of 
those friars I shall have faith in presentiments. I 
don’t know why it is, but they came in a cloud. How- 
ever, let them rest. I cannot turn them away. And 
yet, I could have wished that we had been left alone 
for to-night. And now, my dear boy, I am going to 
startle you ; but let me tell my story ; don’t interrupt 
me. I shall require all my strength of nerve and reso- 
lution.” 

He shot the bolt back into its fastening, and then re- 
turned to his seat. Before he sat down, however, he 
looked off into the shadowy distance, as though trying 
to see something that lay beyond. Was he thinking 
again of the two Franciscans ? Oh, if he could have 
known them then, as he was to know them afterward, 
he would not have sat down while they were within his 
walls. But he did not know ! 



CHAPTER VI. 

BRINGING FORTH THE SECRET. 

Philip d’Artois took one turn across the library, and 
a student of human nature, well-versed in those finer 
subtleties of facial expression, watching him as he 
slowly and thoughtfully moved to and fro, could not 
have doubted that a subject of wondrous weight and 
moment burdened his mind. It might be said that he 
was literally bent beneath the weight. So heavily did 
the burden bear that he stooped and his breathing was 
-labored. A few moments after, crossing the room, he 
stopped, and then went to the sideboard, and took a 
silver flagon in his hand. 

“ Louis, will you drink a glass of wine ? It is the 
pure Cote d’ Or Burgundy, thirty years in my cellar.” 

“ Excuse me, Sir Philip ; I do not need it.” 

“And you will excuse me my son, for I do need it.” 

He poured out a large measure and slowly drank it, 
after which he took his seat, in the great easy-chair by 
the table, being careful to sit so that the light of the 
candles should not shine full in his face. For a little 
time he sat much like a man about to submit to a painful 
surgical operation. His effort at self- control was 
apparent, and a mighty effort at that. The silence was 
becoming oppressive. The count’s heart was throbbing 
tumultuously, for he knew that he was to hear something 

[69] 


70 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


that would move him deeply, and the suspense was 
painful. At length the silence was broken. The voice 
was low and tremulous, and the words seemed forced up 
from a cavernous depth. 

“ Louis, I can hardly realize that I am about to give 
to mortal ear the secret I have so long carried in my 
bosom ; but so it is. Circumstances have arisen which 
render the revealment almost imperative. Form no 
opinion until you have heard me through, for you can- 
not rightly judge until you know all.” 

He changed his position, took a long breath, and 
then commenced his story : 

“ Now, my dear boy, listen to me, and allow me to 
tell my story in my own way, only believe me when I 
assure you that I will tell you the whole, without cur- 
tailment of any kind, and without the concealing of a 
single important particular. You remember my wife. 
She was the daughter of Colonel Jovin de Lusange, a 
veteran of Louis XV.’s grand army. I may truthfully* 
say that Pauline de Lusange was one of the fairest 
women in France, and when I won her for my wife, be 
sure there were plenty to envy me. Two men in par- 
ticular, however, I have to notice. One was a tapestry 
weaver of Arras, a sordid, low-lived, unprincipled man, 
named Gideon de Bar — I see you start. Yes, he was 
the same who visited me this evening. He had money, 
and he had assurance, and he professed to love 
Pauline. My soul ! What a man for her hand ! She 
despised and loathed him, and when she had fairly 
kicked the knowledge of her true feelings into his per- 
verse head he professed to believe that I had preju- 
diced her against him. He saw that I was her accepted 
lover, and it made him angry, and I have no doubt that 
he swore vengeance. A l all events, when Pauline had 
become my wife, he showed to us both that he consid- 


BRINGING FORTH THE SECRET. 71 

ered himself ill-used, though he professed to care noth- 
ing for it. That is, he proclaimed that he was well rid 
of a woman who could not appreciate him. The fact 
that many people laughed at him did not make him at 
all friendly in his feelings toward me. Gideon de Bar 
never married, though he would have the world be- 
lieve that he made poor Rachel Tigny his wife. 

“ The other man of whom I must speak was Colonel 
Juan de Saint Denis. He was an officer of artillery, 
and commanded the citadel of Arras. He was a brave 
man, and handsome, but loose and abandoned. He had 
won the love of a bright-eyed, beautiful grisette , of 
Arras, named Alice Marmont, and I discovered that he 
had been secretly married to her. Colonel Saint Denis’s 
official rank and position brought him into friendly and 
close relations with Pauline’s father, and when he saw 
Pauline he fell desperately in love off-hand. He not 
only fell in love with her, but he told his love and urged 
his suit ; and so well did he prosper therein that she 
began to feel an interest in him. She only knew him 
as she saw him at her father’s house, and it must be 
borne in mind that he possessed those qualities most 
attractive to a vivacious, imaginative woman. He was 
every inch a soldier, brave and dashing, and as I have 
already said, handsome. Colonel de Lusange knew 
him only as the commandant of the defenses of the 
town, and he thought a man intrusted by his king with 
so important a trust must be worthy, and he did not 
forbid his visits. 

“ At that time I had never spoken to Pauline of love, 
but I loved her, nevertheless, though it was without 
selfishness that I warned her of Saint Denis’s true 
character, and of the fact that he was already married, 
that he had a wife beautiful and good, a wife as true 
to him as wife could be. Of course -from that moment 


72 THE SHADOW OF i'HE GUILLOTINE. 

Pauline would listen no more to Juan’s suit, and when 
he found that she knew of his marriage he ceased his 
visits. By some means he learned that it was I who 
had furnished Pauline and her father with knowledge of 
his true character and standing, and his wrath was 
without bounds. He was a vastly different man from 
Gideon de Bar. What he felt he spoke, and if he had 
enmity in his bosom he did not seek to hide it. When, 
in course of time, Pauline became my wife, Juan de 
Saint Denis swore vengeance — swore it to my face and 
bade me beware. 

“ Thus, my son, we come to my married life. My 
wife bore me two children, a son and a daughter. The 
son died at the age of six years. The birth of the 
daughter cost Pauline her life, and the child did not 
long survive her mother. I see you start. Ah, Louis ! 
Louis ! You here have a part of my terrible secret. 
Hold your breath, and be not cast down — Ninon is not 
my child ! No blood of mine is in her veins. I do not 
wonder that you turn pale. But listen : I am now 
coming to that fearful burden which, for so many 
years, has rested like an incubus of death upon me : 

“ Pauline became my wife, and there were two men 
who had sworn vengeance against me. In the circum- 
stances that befell, there was so much that was mar- 
velous — such a working together of different forces, 
and such a perfect adaptation of certain parts toward 
the end reached, that I must believe the whole was a 
carefully elaborated plot for my destruction. No mere 
play of chance could have brought about the result 
that was reached. As well as anything may be known 
which my own senses did not directly see, or feel, or 
hear, do I know that there was a prepared plot, thor- 
oughly arranged in all its parts, and calculated to the 
end of my destruction ; and though I was not the only 


BRINGING FORTH THE SECRET. 


73 


victim, yet he who shared with me the result, was vil- 
lain enough to lend himself to the plot in the outset, 
little dreaming that he was going to his own destruc- 
tion, though I fancy De Bar had it in mind from the 
first. Thus it was : 

“ One day — it was the day that the news reached us 
that Louis XV. was dead — as I was passing through 
the forest toward the Bridge of Cressy, in that part 
where the path is narrow and uneven, I was met by 
Colonel Juan de Saint Denis. He had evidently been 
drinking, but was by no means intoxicated. He had 
lately been drinking a great deal, so I had heard ; and 
had been gambling, and I had heard it said that he had 
spent a great deal of money which had been left in his 
hands by government for the garrison. He met me, 
there in the forest, and stopped me. I cannot tell you 
what he said ; I can only tell you that the vials of his 
wrath were uncorked, and his rage let loose upon me 
in a furious, profane, fiery, vindictive and murderous 
flood. He swore that I had blasted his character ; that 
I had destroyed his peace of mind forever ; that I had 
traduced him ; and he even had the heart to accuse 
me of having broken the heart of his Alice, the 
mother of his child. Oh, I cannot tell you what terri- 
ble things he said ; but worse than all else, he swore 
that he had never sought to gain Pauline’s affection ; 
that my efforts in that direction had been wholly 
gratuitous, and that the only thing I had accomplished 
had been the death of his true wife. He said he was a 
ruined man, and that I had ruined him ; and he then 
demanded satisfaction. He would attack me, and I 
might defend myself, or be cut down like a dog, as I 
pleased. With that he drew his sword, and I saw that 
he was in earnest. I had no choice. He would not let 
me speak. I drew my own blade, and in a moment 


74 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


more the clashing of steel rang through the forest. He 
was the best swordsman in Artois — a far better swords- 
man than I, and much stronger ; but fortune was 
against him, and in a moment when I least expected it, 
my point entered his bosom. His foot had slipped 
upon a rolling stone, and in his efforts to regain his 
equilibrium he pitched forward directly upon the point 
of my sword, for I had held it suspended in mid-air 
when the accident happened. The point entered his 
bosom, and he fell. 

“ I had started forward for the purpose of lifting his 
head, when I heard footsteps approaching, and a mo- 
ment afterward Gideon de Bar came upon the scene. 
He said he had heard the clashing of swords, and had 
come to see what was the matter. And then, in a 
startled manner, having seen the fallen man, he caught 
me by the arm, and bade me to hide myself in the 
wood. Said he — Oh, I remember his every word and 
look and tone : 

“ ‘ Sir Philip, I hear people coming. This man was 
their idol. Remember he was related to that Robert 
le Diable who was executed for attempting to assassin- 
ate the king who is just dead. If they find Saint Denis 
dead and you here with his blood upon your hands, 
they will tear you limb from limb. Flee you to the 
cover of the wood, and I will care for him. If he has 
life in him I will revive him.’ 

“ Thus spoke to me Gideon de Bar. I was beyond 
the power of calm reflection. Touching Saint Denis’s 
relationship to Robert Francois Damiens, the man who 
gained such notoriety from his attempt to assassinate 
Louis XV., he was related only by marriage, but that 
was sufficient in the eyes of the Sans Culottes to canon- 
ize him. Without consideration, with my brain in a 
whirl, I plunged into the wood, where I remained for 


BRINGING FORTH THE SECRET. 


75 


half an hour, as near as I could judge. At the end of 
that time I crept back. As I came to an opening where 
I could look upon the scene of our conflict, I saw de 
Bar upon his knees, supporting Saint Denis in his arms. 
He had been writing upon a sheet of paper. He had 
had pen and ink and paper with him. He said his 
business required that he should carry them when away 
from home. He had been taking down the man’s dying 
statement, and as I came up he had put the pen into 
Saint Denis’s hand, and he was signing his name. He 
had strength to do that, with DeBar to guide his hand, 
and after that he sank back. I rushed to the spot and 
Gideon de Bar arose to his feet and showed me the 
the paper with a great stain of blood upon it, where 
Saint Denis’s hand had rested upon it. At that moment 
I heard not only the sound of approaching feet, but the 
voices of the multitude. De Bar cried out to me again 
to flee. Said he : ‘ Flee for your life and I will turn 
suspicion away from you. They are his friends coming.’ 
And he took me by the arm to lead me away. I asked 
if Saint Denis was dead. ‘ Yes,’ said De Bar. ‘ Look 
for yourself. His last effort of life was the signing of 
this document. His bitter enmity sustained him till 
that was done, and then the las-t breath was drawn. 
But I will save you. Flee at once, and they shall never 
know.’ 

“ I gave one look at the man I had accidentally 
slain, saw that he was really dead, and then fled. I 
reached my home, though I know not how* that night 
at a late hour. Gideon de Bar came to me and showed 
me the paper, but would not trust it in my hands. It 
was entitled, ‘ The Dying Declaration , under Oath, of 
Col. Juan de Saint Denis , commanding French Forces 
at Arras l And then it went on in direct and absolute 
statement, that he had failen by the hand of the Mar- 


76 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


quis Sir Philip cV Artois of Saint Omer — that Philip 
d’Artois had murdered him — that I — / — had first ruined 
his character and blasted his every earthly prospect, 
and had ended my work of enmity by killing him ! 

“ Oh, Louis, it was terrible ! I asked De Bar if he 
meant to hold that paper — I asked him if he did not 
know it was false. 1 told him the solemn truth — how 
Juan de Saint Denis had first drawn upon me, and how 
I had drawn in absolute self-defense, and how, even 
after that, his death was the result of a most unfortu- 
nate accident, and not from a blow aimed by me. But 
De Bar only smiled grimly, and shook his head. 

“ But I need not tell you more of that. You can see 
the whole for yourself. That man had me in his 
power, and he knew it ; aye— and I knew it ! What 
would my declaration amount to by the side of that 
bloody sign-manual of a dying man ? I knew that a 
howl of indignation would go up when it was known 
that Saint Denis had been slain in the forest. And so 
it was. The excitement was intense. You must re- 
member it. You were five years old then, or nearly 
that.” 

“ I remember,” said Louis. “ Aye, I remember very 
well how my father cam'e in and told us at the table ; 
and how he said that doubtless the man had been slain 
in a drunken quarrel ; or, if such had not been the 
case, that he might have taken his own life ; for I 
think he was, at the time of his death, a defaulter to a 
large amount.” 

“ He was,” pursued the marquis, “ and the minister, 
Turgot, had sent a commission to examine into his 
affairs. It was while that commission was in Arras 
that he met me in the forest. What a tempest there 
was ! The mob believed that it had been a plot of the 
aristocrats to get him out of the way. He became 


BRINGING FORTH THE SECRET. 


77 


apotheosized at once, and his memory was held in ven- 
eration as an enemy of the nobility and a champion of 
the people. Good heavens ! Had it been whispered 
then that the Marquis of Saint Omer did the deed, I 
should have been literally torn to pieces. The Sans 
Culottes of Paris would have come to see it done ! 

“ And so I was tied. Perhaps — But no — I could 
not have done differently. That man held in his hand 
an instrument as fatal to me, when he pleased to make 
it so, as a lettre de cachet . He promised that he would 
not be severe, but I could take that for what it was 
worth. I could not calmly and deliberately give my- 
self up to an ignominious death, and my name to uni- 
versal execration, and I bowed my neck to the yoke. 
My wife had been dead several months at that time, 
and my infant daughter was dying. I discovered that 
Colonel Saint Denis had left a daughter, motherless 
and totally unprovided for. I asked De Bar to bring 
the child to me, and he did so — brought it, and swore 
to me that he would never, while I kept faith with him, 
tell to a human being that the little one was not my 
own offspring. The least, and the most, I could do 
was to care for that child ; and I think I have been all 
that a father could have been. 

“ Louis, our blessed Ninon — she whom you love — is 
that child ! She must not know it yet. There is no 
need. Or, at any rate, we will keep it from her as long 
we can. Now, my boy, you can comprehend the power 
of Gideon de Bar. Think of the present condition of 
France. Look at the nation’s real, responsible rulers. 
Now, just picture to yourself this proclamation made in 
the market-place to-morrow. We can imagine it. Gid- 
eon de Bar, mayor of Arras, standing before the people, 
will cry aloud to them something like this — listen : 

“ * My dear citizens and citizenesses, you remember 


78 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


the brave and gallant patriot and soldier, that friend of 
the people, Colonel juan de Saint Denis? You ro- 
tnember him as the near and dear relative of the king- 
killer, Robert le Diable ! You remember how he was 
assassinated in the forest of Saint Jean just after the 
death of the human fiend and monster, Louis Capet, 
called King — the Fifteenth of that name ? Well — I can 
tell you whose hand shed that precious blood !’ ” 

At this point the marquis trembled so convulsively 
that he spoke with difficulty, and Louis put out his 
hand and stopped him. 

*' Enough, father ! I can see it all. I can see it as 
plainly and as surely as though the scene were actually 
transpiring before my very eyes.” 

“ And, my son, you can see what the result would 
be ?” 

“ Yes — yes.” 

“ Then what remains for us to do ? Gideon de Bar 
has been to me, and held that bloody paper before me, 
and demanded Ninon’s hand. If I do not give it on 
the morrow — ” 

“ How !” cried Louis, interrupting. “ Give Ninon’s 
hand — to-morrow ?" 

“ If I do not to-morrow sign the marriage contract, 
which, you are aware, is legally a marriage. The 
priestly ceremony is necessary to a full consummation, 
but the signed contract is legally binding. What shall 
we do ?” 

“Whatever we do must be done quickly, father.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ You would not sign that contract if you could avoid 
it ?” 

“No r 

“Would you leave your wealth behind you if flight 
were possible ?” 


BRINGING FORTH THE SECRET. 


79 


“ Ah, my son, I fear me there would be but little sac- 
rifice in that. I do firmly believe that it is Gideon de 
Bar’s purpose to strip me entirely. If he were to pub- 
lish that paper, property and life would both go in a 
twinkling. I know the fiend thoroughly. He has no 
heart — no conscience. He would glory in the deed of 
working my utter ruin, and the Jacobins would elevate 
him upon my downfall.” 

Louis de Liancourt arose from his seat and walked 
slowly to and fro across the room. When he came 
back, he laid his hand upon the marquis’s shoulder. 

“ Sir Philip, think of Ninon. Would she live long if 
she were sacrificed to — ” 

“ Speak not the word. It shall not be !” 

“Then our course is clear. We have not an hour — 
not a moment — to spare The morrow’s sun must not 
find us here. I am satisfied, upon reflection, that search 
will be made for the nobleman who slew the three — or 
helped to slay — the three Jacobin butchers. There is 
nothing to prevent our being upon the road before mid- 
night. You have some money and some jewels ?” 

“ Yes — thank Heaven ! I have enough for all possible 
need, at least for the present. My jewels are valuable.” 

“ And I, also, have a goodly store. Ninon, too, has 
jewels which her — the marchioness left. My attendant, 
Martin, is a treasure. You have one or two servants 
whom you can trust ; or, we may think it best to take 
a goodly force well armed. From here to Saint- Jean- 
sur-Mer is not more than thirteen leagues. The road 
is mostly your own, and horses may be taken on the 
way anywhere. At that port I know we shall find a 
vessel. We will purchase one, if necessary. Once on 
the sea, and we are s*afe !” 

Philip d’ Artois started to his feet with a cry of hope- 
ful joy. 


80 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


“ Louis,” he exclaimed, seizing the young man’s 
hand, “ it shall be done as you have said. It is our 
only hope, and it is safe.” 

“ Aye,” added Louis, “ and we may consider it sure. 
What shall hinder us ? We can be upon the sea before 
the breaking of another day.” 

“ If we are speedy now.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then let us be moving.” 

And then they started forth to the work of prepara- 
tion. Death was sure to them if they remained till 
another day in Artois. In England they would find 
safety. 

And Louis de Liancourt echoed Sir Philip’s fervent 
prayer as he went forth to summon his faithful at- 
tendant. The marquis was to call Ninon, and prepare 
her for the sudden undertaking. 






CHAPTER VII. 

AN EMPTY BED-CHAMBER, AND WHAT RESULTED. 

Ninon had not retired. Perhaps the hope of seeing and 
speaking with Louis before she slept had kept her up 
later than usual. Of course she was startled when 
informed of the resolution which had been taken, but 
she was not greatly surprised. Her mind was quick to 
perceive, and she had a deeper and clearer insight into 
her father’s true situation than he imagined. She 
thought of him as of her father, for upon that relation- 
ship never a doubt had cast its cloud. She had long 
seen that those nobles of France whose names were of 
ancient and loyal lineage were hated and distrusted by 
the people ; that a spirit of revolution was abroad ; that 
the masses were inspired or infatuated with the idea of 
a universal Commune, in which the wealth of the 
wealthy should be confiscated to the use of the poor 
and the portionless ; and that the very government 
was surely passing into the hands of the ignorant, dis- 
solute and irresponsible mob. She knew how the fatal 
guillotine was daily, and almost hourly, at work — that 
men and women, old and young, high and low, were 
beheaded without just trial, and how dire Vengeance 
had usurped the place of Justice. Touching the rela- 
tions between her father and Gideon de Bar she knew 

f 81J 


82 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE, 


more than she had ever told, and suspected much that 
she did not know. Of one thing, however, she was 
positively certain. De Bar held the life of Sir Philip 
in his hand, to let the ax fall when he pleased. This 
was sufficient to decide her, and when it had been told 
her that they would flee to the coast and take ship for 
England, and that Louis de Liancourt would bear them 
company, she was happier than she had been before 
for long, long months. 

“ Gather all your money and all your jewels,” said 
the marquis, “ and let your maid look to the packing-up 
of your clothing. You will not be long.” 

Ninon promised so make all possible haste, and with 
the promise upon her lips she turned away ; but when 
her father had gone she came back and waited until 
Louis appeared. She could not move until she had 
heard his dear word of encouragement. 

“ Fear not, my beloved,” cried the count, pressing 
Ninon to his bosom and kissing her upon the brow. 
“ Surely there can be nothing to bind us to France 
while this demon of anarchy and destruction is loose. 
Here there is danger at every step — danger to every 
one of us — while in another land we may find safety 
and sweet repose. You will trust me, dear girl ?” 

“ Yes ! Oh, yes !” 

“ Then make all possible haste. Forget not a thing 
which you need.” 

With another kiss Ninon hastened away, and, with 
Blanchette to assist, made rapid progress in her 
preparations, of which it is only necessary to state that 
she found herself possessed of more wealth in small 
bulk than she had thought. All the jewels which the 
marchioness had left were hers — jewels, some of them, 
which had been in the families of the Counts d’Artois 
for many generations — and she knew they were worth 


AN EMPTY BED-CHAMBER. 


83 


a fortune. She gathered them carefully up, with what 
gold she could find, and then made judicious selection 
of other things. 

Below, the marquis and the count had held a council, 
Martin Duval participating, in which it had been de- 
termined that ten men of the retainers of the house 
should be taken. Of these, six were stout, faithful and 
well-tried soldiers, brave and true ; two were grooms, 
and two common servants. Old Nicolas, the warder, 
had been called in, and had promised to remain and 
look to the castle, and also to make such explanation 
to the other servants as he might deem proper and 
necessary. Of course, it could not be long before in- 
quiries would be made by the mayor of Arras, and to 
him, and to others in authority who might demand in- 
formation, Nicolas was to tell the simple truth of all 
he knew. The direction which the fugitives were to 
take was not made known to him. 

It was a little after midnight when all the prepara- 
tions had been made. It had taken longer than they 
had thought, and yet they had been expeditious. The 
marquis had given to his valet a morocco case contain- 
ing his jewels, and such important papers as he thought 
best to take away with him, and his gold was in his 
own saddle-bags, to be carried by himself. 

Both the Count de Liancourt and Martin were be- 
coming anxious. They had commenced to make ready 
before ten o’clock, and considerably more than two 
hours had been consumed. The esquire, eager in his 
beloved master’s behalf, had been gathering informa- 
tion from the servants and the outside tenants, from 
whom he had gathered much concerning the Jacobite 
doings which was not known to the marquis. 

“ Ah !” he exclaimed, as the last faint reverberations 
of the great clock-bell in the tower were dying away 


«4 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


upon the midnight air. “ There is more danger than our 
lord the marquis knows. The spirit of blood is loose, 
and is making its way to the north. The streets of 
Paris have been filled with carnage, and the mad 
butchers are tramping up and down the highways and 
the byways, crying: 1 Kill ! Kill!' The heads of the 
nobles are falling. With regard to the head of the 
king, its fall is only a question of time !” 

“ Martin, you do not mean that they will dare to pub- 
licly execute him ?” 

“Yes, my lord.” 

“Oh, that would be monstrous !” 

“ My faith, not more monstrous than many other 
things that are done. And, my master,” pursued the 
man, after a moment’s pause, and in a lower key, “just 
cast your thoughts back upon the last twenty years of 
the reign of the king who died to give this one the 
throne. Was there a crime against any law, human 
or divine — civil, moral, or social — that he was not 
guilty of ? Did he not, truly and in fact, hold France 
by the throat and rob her of honor, truth and virtue ? 
Did he not — But what have we here ?” 

It was one of the grooms from the stables, who had 
just some in from beyond the outer walls, where 
he had been to get a powerful pack-horse which the 
miller had had in use. 

“ Is this you, my lord ?” he asked eagerly, as he came 
up. 

“ I am the Count de Liancourt. What have you to 
communicate ?” 

“ I think you had better ascertain if the two Capu- 
chins that sought shelter here are in their beds.” 

“ Ha ! What is it ? What of them ? Speak, in mer- 
cy’s name !” 

“ Only this, my lord : The old miller was out just 


AN EMPTY BED-CHAMBER. 


85 


after the castle clock struck ten, coming down from his 
mill, where he had. been with his wife to mend some of 
the wind-sails. Near the foot of the hill, where the 
path branches off toward the eastern bridge, he saw 
two men who looked like monks, and he was sure they 
must have come from the castle.” 

Louis waited to hear no more. He remembered how 
reluctantly the marquis had given the order for admit- 
ting the two Franciscans, and his fears were aroused. 
As quickly as possible he dashed into the keep, and 
found the chamberlain, who took a lamp and con- 
ducted him to the chamber where he had quartered the 
mendicants. It was in a wing, or projection, at the 
back part of the old building, which had been origin- 
ally intended for a dormitory in times when the garri- 
son was filled. The chateau could give home to an 
army of two thousand men, if necessary. This wing 
overlooked the rear court, beyond which, within the 
main wall of enclosure, was a garden of shrubs and 
flowers. The chamberlain tried the door of the apart- 
ment, and found it locked upon the inside. Louis did 
not wait for ceremony. With a powerful kick, he 
forced the door from its fastenings, and then hurried 
in. The Capuchins were not there ! An open window, 
with a rope of sheets and blankets hanging out over 
the silj, told the whole story. Louis looked out at the 
window, and saw that the friars had had no difficulty in 
reaching the ground, and then, as swiftly as the flame 
of the lamp would permit, he hurried down. 

Two old woodmen, with a lantern, went to the point 
beneath the open window, from the sill of which flut- 
tered the rope of bedding, and there they found the 
prints of two pairs of sandaled feet, fresh ano distinct. 
Without difficulty they traced them through the garden 
to the rear wall, where an enormous grape-vine had 


86 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


been suffered to grow to the coping. There was no 
need of looking further. The junction of the two 
paths, of which the miller had spoken, was not far 
away, and the monks had been gone full two hours ! 

In the great hall, where the party were gathering, 
the horses having been brought to the landing, and the 
packs and saddle - bags put on, stood the marquis, 
wondering what kept the count ; but when the count 
had come, and had told what he had founds Sir Philip 
was frightened. 

“Oh !” he groaned, clinching his hands. “I feared 
those men when they came. The Franciscan convent 
is not a league away, and if they were able to walk, 
there was no ordinary reason for their seeking shelter 
here. They are spies — set on by Gideon de Bar.” 

“ Then,” cried Louis, in trumpet tones, “ we must 
make all possible haste. All is ready. We need not 
wait another moment. To horse ! To horse ! Ninon, 
come ! Take heart, dear girl. We will look to it that 
no possible effort is spared. Once on the road, we will 
quickly put a distance between us and our enemies 
that they shall find it difficult to overcome.” 

He led her out and helped her to her saddle, and 
very shortly afterward the whole party was mounted. 
The warder had thrown open the great gate and low- 
ered the draw-bridge, and three of the men-at-arms 
rode in advance and crossed over. Then came Sir 
Philip and Sir Louis, with Ninon between them. Next 
rode Martin Duval and Blanchette Lefranc ; behind 
them came the pack-horses in charge of the grooms 
and servants ; and, bringing up the rear were the three 
other troopers, heavily armed ; and, for that matter, 
all were armed as thoroughly as could be. 

It will be remembered that the draw -bridge spanned 
the river which ran beneath the castle wall ; or, the 


AN EMPTY BED-CHAMBER. 


87 


draw was a part of the spanning bridge, and beyond 
this, at the distance of a hundred yards or more, ran 
the highway, very nearly east and west. When the 
three troopers in advance reached this broad road, the 
chief of the squad, a commissioned lieutenant, rode on 
ahead of his companions, according to the plan of 
march which had been laid down. The last of the col- 
umn had filed into the highway, and the order had 
been given for striking into a gallop, when the horse 
of the lieutenant suddenly shied, coming very near to 
unseating him. Upon his left was a wood, extending 
several miles, being part of an old park in which deer 
had been kept in former years, and as his beast sprang 
aside, away from this thick, dark cover, he looked 
sharply to see if he could discover anything unusual. 
But.nothing appeared. It must have been a hare or a 
fox, he thought ; and he was gathering his rein to 
guard against another movement of like description, 
when one of his companions spurred to his side, and 
pointed to a clear space ahead, where the road passed 
over a gentle eminence, affording a background of 
clear sky to the vista. 

“ Marius,” spoke the soldier who had ridden up, 
thus addressing his superior, “ have you observed any- 
thing ?” 

“ Not by sight,” returned the lieutenant. “ You saw 
my horse shy. Something must have startled him — 
something in the wood.” 

“ But I saw something ahead — where the road on 
the hill touches the sky — something like the heads of 
men, which disappeared the moment we came in sight 
from the angle behind us.” 

Marius looked sharply but saw nothing, and he was 
debating with himself whether he should push on until 
he saw something positive, or go back with the intelli- 


88 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

gence in hand, when he was startled by the sharp 
neighing of a horse close at hand, followed by a sound 
which seemed to him very much like a smothered oath 
from human lips. He whispered to his companion, and 
then turned his horse and rode back. 

“ My lord,” he said, as he drew up before the mar- 
quis, “ I fear we are waylaid. I have heard the neigh- 
ing of a horse close at hand, and Conrad is sure he saw 
several men upon the hill before us.” 

“ Heaven have mercy if we are pursued,” ejaculated 
d’ Artois. 

“ My lord,” said Louis, who saw that the marquis 
was trembling in every joint, “ let us not look upon the 
side of failure. Look ! A little in advance is a more 
open space. Let us gain that, at any rate, and if we 
are attacked we will find of what stuff our assailants 
are made. Will you order the arrangement ?” 

“ My dear Louis, you are young and fresh. I wish 
you would take command.” 

“ As you will, my lord. And you will remain by 
Ninon’s side ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Martin, you will go back and hold the rear. Look 
well about you, and then come up with the three 
troopers and stand ready to answer my call. Do not 
pass the marquis till I bid you. Ninon, dear girl, take 
courage. It may be nothing, after all, but a night- 
bound straggler. We shall soon see.” 

Thus speaking he beckoned to Marius to join him, 
and rode on to the front, where, finding that all was 
quiet, he pushed on, believing that the arrangement he 
had made was good. In case of an alarm in the rear, 
he could trust Martin’s judgment, and if an attack 
should occur in front he could call up his whole force 
very quickly. The broader space of which he had 


AN EMPTY BED-CHAMBER. 


89 


spoken was close at hand, and as he came to its verge 
he instinctively drew in his rein. It was where at 
some time a cot had stood, and around it a clearing 
had been made, probably to accommodate a woodman 
of a former lord. The trees had been cut away upon 
both sides of the road, and the clearing extended to the 
foot of the little hill of which we have spoken, distant, 
perhaps, three hundred yards. He had a feeling that 
he had better wait here for the others to come up, so 
as to guard the flanks of the party as they crossed this 
open space. 

As soon as those in the rear had come up, the mar- 
quis, with Ninon and Blanchette, kept the middle of 
the road, with the pack-horses and two grooms directly 
behind them. Martin, with three troopers, took the 
left, while our hero himself, with the other three, took 
the right, the two remaining servants being placed be- 
side the pack-horses. 

“ Now,” said Louis, without the least show of excite- 
ment, “ we are to use the spur and dash forward. If 
we cross the space before us, at the foot of yonder em- 
inence I will take the lead ; his lordship and the ladies 
next ; then the pack-horses ; and then Martin. Now, 
forward !” 

They had gained half the distance across the open 
space, and were going at a rattling gallop, when the 
horse of the lieutenant shied again, this time so smart- 
ly and so suddenly as to hurl him from his saddle. 
Naturally, Louis pulled up, and upon this the others 
did likewise, but in such manner that the line was 
broken, and the horses widely separated. 

Marius was not hurt, and he had placed a foot in the 
stirrup, prepared to remount, when a loud shout sounded 
from the edge of the wood upon the right, and as 
the lieutenant regained his seat, full a score of mounted 


90 


TME SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


men burst forth into the glade, some upon one hand 
and some upon the other. In the darkness the number 
could not be clearly told, but the shadowy masses were 
fearfully plenty. 

“On — on!” shouted the count, drawing his sword, 
and wheeling his horse to face his company. “ Sir 
Philip, do you and the two women spur on with all 
possible speed — over the hill, and away. We will 
cover your retreat. The Sans Culottes shall find that 
they have not children to deal with.” 

“They are not Sans Culottes /” cried the marquis, in 
fear-stricken tones. “See ! Here comes a man with 
torch-bearers, and he carries a white flag.” 

Louis turned, and saw that it was as Sir Philip had said. 
A man was approaching on horseback, with a white flag 
in his hand, waving it above his head, and upon either 
side of him, on foot, were men bearing flambeaux. 

“Philip d’ Artois, master of Saint Jean,” called the 
horseman, “in the name of the constitution of France, 
I demand speech with you !” 

“ It is Gideon de Bar,” said Louis, recognizing the 
man as he came nearer. 

“ Yes,” returned the marquis. “ I must speak with 
him.” 

Louis de Liancourt’s heart sank within him. He 
could not offer to oppose Sir Philip’s desire, and he 
knew there could be but one result. Oh, if he could 
have called upon some kind power to set Ninon be- 
yond danger, how quickly would he have cut his way 
through the opposition now presented ! But, if he 
forced on the battle, who should tell what might be the 
result to the loved one ? 

“ Philip d’ Artois, what is your answer ?” 

“ Louis,” cried the broken man, beseechingly, “ I 
must speak with him.” 


AN EMPTY BED-CHAMBER. 


91 


“ As you will, Sir Philip. I will move back and give 
you passage.” 

And with this the count wheeled his horse and rode 
to Ninon’s side. 

“ Ninon, I must speak a word in your ear. Will you 
withdraw a pace ? Do not turn your horse, for eager 
eyes may be upon you. Back away from the light — 
draw back until you are in the shadow, and I will be by 
your side.” 

At that moment Martin drew up at the count’-s 
stirrup. 

“ Sir Louis, do not, in mercy’s name, deliberately do 
an act of suicide. If the marquis makes terms with 
these men, it means arrest for you. The lady will be 
safe. I will trust Blanchette. You must trust Ninon. 
The present moment may be ours ; and, perhaps, never 
another.” 

“ One moment, Martin. I must speak with Ninon. 
I have promised. Ha ! Listen to what that man pro- 
poses.” 

The marquis had ridden forth, and Gideon de Bar 
was coming to meet him ; and the light of the flaring 
flambeaux was sufficient to reveal that other men had 
come forth from the wood, all stout and well armed. 




CHAPTER VIII. 

A RACE AND A FIGHT FOR LIFE. 

Evidently Gideon de Bar knew his man thoroughly, 
and knew just how to deal with him. Naturally, Philip 
d’Artois was brave and true, and would have sooner 
sacrificed his life than his honor ; but in the presence 
of this man he was a coward. Once he had suffered 
the Mephistopheles to gain control of him, and never 
since had he had the stern courage to assert his whole 
manhood when that man’s thumb was upon him. 

On the present occasion, as soon as the marquis had 
turned his face from the man who had inspired within 
him hope and courage, and had faced the man whom 
he feared, his whole aspect changed. He felt the edge 
of the knife upon his neck in anticipation, and he heard 
the howlings of the mob as he went from the hall of 
justice to the guillotine. 

“ My dear Sir Philip ! Dear, good friend ! How 
could you do such a foolish thing ? I cannot conceive 
why you should allow the thought of fleeing from 
France to enter your head !” 

“Fleeing — from France ! If” uttered the marquis, 
trying to appear greatly astonished. 

“Oh, now, my dear Philip, do not make matters 
worse than they really are by telling a falsehood. 

[92] 


A RACE AND A FIGHT FOR LIFE. 


93 


Know that your directions to your servants have been 
all repeated to me.” 

“Ah!” exclaimed d’Artois, involuntarily. “Those 
monks !” 

De Bar smiled with a grim malevolence. 

“ Yes, Sir Philip. The next time a pair of Capuchins 
come, claiming shelter in the name of Saint Francis, 
be you sure -they are not true followers of Saint Gideon. 
Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! Yes, yes — the seeming Capuchins are 
with me now, but their garbs of Saint Francis are laid 
aside. I have fifty stout troopers with me, and you 
can imagine whether I will turn back empty-handed 
from the mission I have undertaken. Now, Philip 
d’ Artois, listen to me, and judge whether I am your 
friend or not. I have gained the directing of this 
whole business, and what I promise will be made good. 
If you will call off the men who are of your immediate 
household, and surrender promptly, and with outward 
good grace, I will warrant you your liberty and your 
safe return, with your fair charge , to your chateau. 
What say you ?” 

“ But,” pleaded the poor man, quivering with more 
than mortal dread, “ what of Louis de Liancourt ? Will 
you extend to him the same terms ?” 

“ My very dear friend, if you feel that you can take 
upon your shoulders the affairs of a man against whom 
the Assembly of Justice has issued its edict, I will 
leave you to your fate. I have no time to waste. If I 
return to my followers, and bid them go on with their 
work, you will escape if you can. If you do not, you — 
know the result ! In a word — what is your answer ?” 

While this had been transpiring between Gideon de 
Bar and the marquis, Louis de Liancourt had found 
the side of his dear love, and no other ear was near to 
overhear their words. Said the count ; 


94 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

“Ninon, you see how we are surrounded. I know 
that your father is completely within that bad man’s 
power. It is a wretched story, which you will some 
time know ; but for the present rest satisfied with the 
assurance that, let De Bar say what he will, Philip 
d’Artois is guiltless of crime. Hush ! Let that pass. 
Now look : Your father will surrender. I cannot bear 
you away from him. The bare attempt might be fatal. 
You will return home, and I shall not be there. I shall 
escape if I can ; but, let happen what will, tell me that 
you will not let them drag you into marriage with 
another while I live. Will you promise me that ?” 

“Oh, yes ! With my whole heart, yes ! No power 
shall make me do it !” 

“ Then let us live and hope. We can trust in God, 
and put forth our every energy beside. Be you firm, 
and I will come to you when I can. * Dear girl — ” he 
spoke with terrible earnestness — “be sure that every 
art, every outrageous plot, every lying, wicked scheme 
which the most abandoned fiendishness can invent and 
put in motion will be brought to bear upon you. In 
such a position you have a sacred right — aye, it is your 
duty — to use every means in your power, even to deceiv- 
ing the villain for your own preservation. Let no false 
estimate of right and wrong sink you to destruction. 
If the need and the opportunity should come to you, 
you must turn the weapon of the enemy against him- 
self. Will you do it ?” 

“ Dear Louis ! My own true love ! My darling, in 
such a cause I will not hesitate.” 

“ Bless you, Ninon, bless you ! God keep and guard 
you, and may the good angels — ” 

The sentence was cut short by Martin Duval, who 
came dashing up, and reining in with his lips close to 
his master’s ear. 


A RACE AND A FIGHT FOR LIFE. 95 

“ My lord, the marquis will surrender and leave you 
to your fate. He has no choice. De Bar has full fifty 
dragoons surrounding us. Our point of meeting, if we 
both escape, is at the Point of Saint Paul, five leagues 
north of Saint-Jean-Sur-Mer. We must not struggle 
together. You are the man they seek. I would die 
for you if it would serve you, but if you are captured I 
can serve you far better from the outside of the prison 
than from the inside with you. Do you comprehend ?” 

“ Perfectly, Martin ; and you are right. Away with 
you ! Away, and God be with you !” 

Without another word Martin backed his horse away 
from the neighborhood of his master, and at a proper 
distance he wheeled and gave the beast the spur. 

De Liancourt saw Gideon de Bar turn and heard him 
call to the officer who was nearest to him. He spoke 
one more word to Ninon, and then, with her sweet 
voice sounding in his ears, bidding him for Heaven’s 
sake flee, he turned his horse’s head and plunged 
toward the hill to the westward, over which the road 
lay. He could not see Martin anywhere. He swept 
the whole circle with his eye, but the familiar horseman 
was not to be seen. 

“ Fire ! Fire !” shouted De Bar, in tones full as 
eager and exultant as they were imperative. “ Shoot 
him down ! He is the man who slew Gabriel and 
Raoul !” 

A howl of rage and indignation broke the midnight 
air. It was as though high carnival were being held 
in Pluto’s capital, and a new species of infernal sport 
had been unexpectedly opened to the actors. 

“Fire! Fire! Don't let the murderer of Ismael 
escape !” 

They were generous in their award of honor, thus to 
bestow upon our hero the credit of having killed all 


96 


the; shadow of the guillotine. 


three of the dead assassins ; but he did not care for that 
just then. He had other things to occupy his mind. 
Instinctively he stooped low upon his horse’s neck, 
thus offering the least possible space to the chance fly- 
ing of the enemy’s bullets, and sped away like the wind. 
Of Ninon he thought, and he murmured her name as 
he was borne onward. He knew her life was secure, 
and he believed she would firmly keep the faith she 
had pledged. Somehow, the belief settled calmly 
down upon his inner consciousness without an effort of 
argument, and it gave him a great joy in the midst of 
the enveloping tempest. 

I cannot account for it, and I think I never saw the 
thing attempted — how so many bullets, directed by 
men experienced in the work, can be sent flying after a 
man — flying all around him — and not one of them hit 
him. It would sometimes appear that every other 
point within the range of the firing — every other con- 
ceivable atom of space — is traversed by the deadly 
missiles, save that occupied by the object aimed at. 
The Jacobin soldiers had light enough to afford them 
sight for aim, for the fugitive was starting from their 
very midst, and had to pass points occupied by many 
of them, and the glare of at least a dozen flambeaux 
shone over the glade. The men of De Bar fired as 
soon as the order was given, and their bullets whistled 
around the count’s head with a music anything but in- 
viting ; but he was not touched. A ball passed through 
his hat, and another was buried in the pommel of his 
saddle, and other parts of his clothing were touched, 
but not a scratch upon his flesh. His horse was a 
powerful beast, of pure Grenada breed, fleet as the 
wind and as enduring. The foot of the eminence was 
gained before the pieces of the enemy had been 
emptied, and as he started up the ascent he heard the 


A RACE AND A FIGHT FOR LIFE. 


97 


order given for pursuit. Thus far the thought of 
riding after him had not occurred to them, they prob- 
ably thinking their bullets must bring him down. 

Half way up the rise the count slackened his pace 
for a moment and cast a glance behind him. The 
scene was picturesque and vivid, the light of the flam- 
beaux, which were scattered about over the whole space 
occupied by man and horse, illuminating the glade 
very clearly. He saw where the marquis sat upon his 
horse with Ninon and Blanchette by his side, and his 
servants drawn up behind him. Close by was the 
mayor of Arras, swinging his sword in the air and 
shouting to his troopers, and from that point to the 
foot of the hill were scattered those who had started in 
pursuit. One sweeping glance over the varied scene, 
and then his gaze was fixed upon Ninon. He fancied 
that he could see upon her face the look of prayer, and 
almost persuaded himself that he could hear her sweet 
voice in supplication to the throne of grace. 

“ Dear girl,” he murmured, while a gathering moist- 
ure dimmed his sight, “ be firm — be strong — oh, keep 
the faith that is between us, and all shall yet be well !” 

And then he turned and spurred on. One more 
glance behind him from the top of the hill, and in a 
moment more the scene in the glade was shut out from 
his view. 

The road before him was an old highway, and though 
broken and uneven in places, yet easy to be followed 
by a sure-footed horse, even in the night. There was 
no moon, and many of the stars were obscured by 
passing clouds ; but the count’s eyes were strong and 
sharp, and serviceable in a gloom where many might 
have failed. At points where the thick wood flanked 
the way it became so dark that the fugitive was forced 
to slacken his speed ; and he did it willingly, for he not 


98 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

only thus gave his beast opportunity to breathe, but he 
avoided the danger of going down in some of the many 
sinks and gullies that broke the surface of the track. 

Was he pursued ? Aye, and that right hotly. At 
one time he would have given anything for more light, 
but the thought that light would serve the enemy as 
well as himself reconciled him a measure to the gloom. 
More than once his horse came near losing his footing 
and plunging headlong, and twice, at least, he had 
come near being hurled from his saddle by coming in 
contact with low-hanging branches of the flanking 
trees. 

De Liancourt could not tell how far he had ridden, 
nor how long. Where he had expected he should feel 
at home amid old scenes of the boyhood days, the dark- 
ness had made him as a stranger, and the road which 
he fancied he knew perfectly he was forced to give 
almost entirely to his horse for directive judgment. 
As to the lapse of time, it might have been half an 
hour — not more than that, certainly — when he became 
painfully aware of the fact that horses were gaining 
upon him. The tramp of their iron shoes was distinct, 
and ever and anon the shouts of the riders broke the 
air. Louis asked himself if he could have possibly 
gained anything by turning from the highway into the 
wood, but he could not make himself believe that such 
a movement would have been politic or judicious. 
Even had he been able to make the movement without 
being detected by his pursuers, the utter blackness of 
desolation in the deep forest would not only have 
stopped his progress, but there were chances of being 
bewildered and lost. No, he was doing the best he 
could do, and with another inward struggle and a mur- 
mured prayer, he urged his horse forward. 

Certainly the pursuers were coming nearer, and in a 


A RACE AND A FIGHT FOR LIFE. 


99 


very important particular they had an advantage over 
him which was to them invaluable. The road had been 
for a considerable distance of an upward grade toward 
the westward, and promised to be so for two or three 
leagues further. Thus, those in pursuit were enabled 
to catch sight of the fugitive, as, being below him, they 
looked up and saw him outlined against the sky ; while 
he, looking down, could only gaze into a dense wood 
the shadows of which swallowed up every object within 
its confines. 

Could it be that his horse was failing ? It would 
surely seem so, and yet it ought not so to be. Ah ! 
By and by the beast began to limp perceptibly, and 
then the count remembered something which had en- 
tirely escaped his mind. He remembered that the 
animal, while under fire, had once reared suddenly, 
and stood for a moment upon three legs when he came 
down. He must have been hit by a bullet at that time, 
hit and wounded, but so slightly as not to show it at 
the time. But now there could be no doubt. In a lit- 
tle while longer the horse fairly staggered, and one of 
his forelegs was failing. 

The pursuers had seen him, for their exultant shouts 
plainly revealed it. The road was direct for a consid- 
erable distance in advance, and slightly rising, so that 
a good part of the time his outlines must have been 
visible to those behind. 

Hark ! When fully assured that his horse must very 
soon give out entirely, the count stopped and bent his 
ear to listen. There were three, at least, in pursuit, 
and close upon him, though one of them seemed to be 
nearer than the others. His thoughts worked swiftly. 
It was to him a matter of life and death. Capture by 
those who were so near upon him could mean only 
death by the guillotine, sure and speedy. If he would 


100 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


defend himself to the best advantage, he must leave 
his seat upon a horse that was failing him. Should he 
venture to sustain a charge in his saddle, the chances 
were that he would go down at the first onset, in which 
event he might meet harm from the fall. He had not 
yet discharged a pistol, and he had two of them, well 
and faithfully loaded, with flints fine and sure. These 
he took from the holster and pushed beneath his 
sword-belt, and then dismounted. 

A moment’s glance at the situation told him that his 
movement had been discovered. The foremost of the 
pursuers instantly pulled up, and shouted for his com- 
rades to hurry and join him. This was not what the 
count had wanted. He had hoped that the enemy 
would allow him to meet them in detail. However, if 
they were to come upon him in force, he must be pre- 
pared accordingly. There were three of the Jacobins 
coming — three to be met in the outset — and there were 
more in the distance, as, now that he stood upon the 
earth, and could catch the impression upon his senses, 
he heard them plainly. He could hear, ever and 
anon, a distant shout, and the tramp of the iron-shod 
feet was borne upon the air to his ears. Very likely 
the greater part of the mayor’s force had joined in 
the chase, making of it a sport. At all events, the 
shoutings and the howlings and the hootings which 
came from the lips of the distant riders had more the 
spice of the riotous mob than of a well-disposed legal 
posse. 

The young nobleman had not long to wait in uncer- 
tainty. Placing the horse so that he could make him 
serve the purpose of a protection against being ridden 
down, he drew his sword, which he held hanging from 
the left hand, while in the right he held a cocked pis- 
tol, The second pistol, also cocked, he held in the left 


A RACE AND A FIGHT FOR LIFE. 


101 


hand with the sword, so that when he had discharged 
the first, he could grasp either sword or pistol, as might 
be desired. 

“ What ho ! Citizen Louis de Liancourt ! In the 
name of the constitution, I command you to deliver up 
your sword and to surrender !” 

Our hero could see that the man was large and 
powerful, of middle age, dressed in the garb of the 
Commune, with the cap of liberty upon his head. 
This was a cap of red cloth, without a vizor, tall 
and conical, with the top drooping and upon the 
side a white cockade, and was the distinctive mark 
of the Jacobin Club. Its wearer was evidently a 
man of distinction with the mob and low-bred ruf- 
fian. 

Louis’s resolution was quickly taken, and he meant 
to act instantly. It was his only hope. The other two 
pursuers stopped when this man stopped, being slightly 
behind him, and all the count could see of them in 
the darkness was that they were large, heavy-shoul- 
dered men. This he could see by their outlines 
against the sky, they being elevated upon their sad- 
dles ; and he also saw that they wore the Jacobin 
cap. 

“Look ye !” replied Louis, as soon as he had studied 
the situation : “ Let it not be said that you had not fair 
warning. Leave me this instant — turn your horse now 
— immediately — or I shall kill you if it is in my power. 
I must protect myself at all hazards.” 

The man laughed a loud, brutal laugh, and then, 
with an oath, drew his sword. Our hero’s quick eye 
detected that this was taken as a signal by the others, 
and that they were coming up, with their swords out. 
With a quick movement, but with sure aim, he raised 
his pistol and fired. The Jacobin sent forth a sharp 


102 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


cry, like the roar of a stricken beast, and, throwing up 
his hands, fell backward from his horse. 

With tremendous oaths, the other two pressed their 
horses forward, swearing vengeance deep and dire. 
Fortunate for Louis was it that he had the second 
pistol ready for use, for otherwise he could not, on foot 
as he was, have escaped the blows of both the heavy 
swords. Though his movements were quick as 
thought, they were as deliberate as though squared by 
methodical rule, and as sure. His second pistol was 
as effective as had been the first, and in firing on foot, 
while his object was thrown upward against the sky, 
he had a great advantage. 

The second man was shot directly through the brain, 
falling instantly ; and our hero’s next movement was 
to leap to the far side of the horse from which the 
first Jacobin had fallen, and vault into the saddle; 
and this he accomplished before the remaining pur- 
suer had fairly recovered from the bewilderment 
into which he had been thrown by the death, so sud- 
den, and so utterly unlooked-for, of his two compan- 
ions. 

“ Now, my friend !” shouted the count, gathering the 
rein, and raising his sword, “ I will give you a lesson in 
the use of this beautiful weapon. If you are a true 
Frenchman you should love it.” 

He felt jubilant and strong in that saddle, for he 
knew that he had a powerful and enduring beast 
beneath him, and his words rang out like the notes of 
a trumpet : “ Come on, mon brave /” 

“Think not to escape, proud aristocrat. You have 
made fine business for yourself. I do not claim that 
I alone could carry you off against your will ; I shall 
go for help. Ha — hear it ! It is not far away !” 

The count smiled at the man’s honest admission, and 


103 


A RACE AND A FIGHT FOR LIFE. 

then his lips tightened. He knew that this fellow would 
not pursue him, and his true course was to move on 
with all possible speed ; and to this end he believed he 
had the proper horse. 

“ Oho !” shouted the Jacobin, as he saw the young 
nobleman turn, “ that will not help you. I shall very 
quickly be after you with — ” 

That was the last our hero heard. The rest of the 
Jacobin’s brave assurance was swallowed up in 
the increasing distance as he sped away once more to 
the coast. 




CHAPTER IX. 

THE WAYSIDE COT. 

De Liancourt was not deceived in the estimate he 
had made of the Jacobin trooper’s horse. The beast 
was fleet and strong, and also willing ; and from the 
character of the saddle and the quality of the reins, he 
judged that they and their wearer had been impressed 
for the occasion from some gentleman of the country 
better able to own good horseflesh than was the man 
who had brought this speciman upon the field. There 
was no faltering and no manifestation of unwilling- 
ness, and by careful management in allowing the horse 
proper breathing spells, he sped on as swiftly as his 
rider could desire. For a little time after leaving the 
scene of his conflict the count heard the occasional 
shouts of the man who was waiting to lead his com- 
panions on the pursuit ; but they soon died away, and 
were heard no more. 

It lacked a full hour of daylight when our hero 
reached Saint-Jean-Sur-Mer. It was an old walled 
place, a notorious haunt of the contrabandists of the 
English Channel, and, at present, he feared, given up 
to the spirit of the Revolution. The gates were closed, 
and he would not be able to gain admittance at that 
hour without answering a great many questions which 
[104] 



THE WAYSIDE COT. 


105 


he did not care to answer ; and, at best, he would be 
subject to a scrutiny which might work him much 
harm if his pursuers should chance to be close upon 
his track. Martin Duval had appointed their place of 
meeting at the Point of St. Paul, which was a small 
fishing and wrecking hamlet, five leagues north from 
St. Jean, upon the sea. There might have been a 
more direct route from the point of his departure to 
St. Paul’s Point, but he knew nothing of it, and had 
not dared to attempt an uncertain search in the dark ; 
and, furthermore, by no possible route could he have 
gained much in distance, if any. 

He was satisfied thus far as it was, but what should 
he do now ? He had thought of making inquiries to 
ascertain if Martin had arrived at this point before 
him, but there were the same objections to this that 
rested against inspection at the gate. There could be 
no doubt that his Jacobin pursuers would come to St. 
Jean. Their informants — the false friars — had over- 
heard the discussion, in which this place was fixed upon 
as the objective point, and here they would surely 
come. His horse sadly needed rest and refreshment, 
but he dared not stop there to gain it ; so, after a brief 
pause, during which the animal drank, and cropped a 
little grass, he resumed the saddle and pushed on. 

And now, upon a new route — a route which his ene- 
mies might not strike, and with pursuit for the present 
evaded, our hero naturally thought of what should be 
the next movement ; and with thoughts of the future 
were strangely and dreamily mingled thoughts of the 
varied past. The road lay along upon the coast, at 
times almost washed by the insetting waves of the 
flood tide, at others winding around huge masses of 
rugged rock, and at a point here and there crowded in 
by marshy indentations. But the roar of the great 


106 


THE- SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


ocean was continuous and unchanging, like a grand 
anthem of creation, the deep diapason of the swelling, 
rolling billows, in sweet accord with the whispered 
murmurings of the breeze, the whole upraising the 
majestic theme of praise to the Infinite. The spirit of 
Louis de Liancourt was freely open to such impres- 
sions, and for a time, while the inspiration of worship 
uplifted his soul, he could not think of the evil that 
cursed the world. It was terrible to come back from 
the enrapturing emotion to the dark and dismal facts 
that surrounded him on every hand. 

But he could not dwell in dreams continuously. 
Dark and threatening as was the situation of the hour, 
he was forced to shut out all else and give that consid- 
eration. He knew that he desired to reach St. Paul’s 
Point, and he hoped that he might there meet Martin. 
If he should be so fortunate as to be joined by that 
long-tried and trusty attendant, he would feel that 
much was gained. For keen judgment and reliable 
determination Martin had no superior, and his advice 
would be valuable. In many directions and upon many 
themes did the count’s thoughts run, until at length, 
weary with planning and re-planning, he resolved to 
let the subject of his future course rest until he had 
his friend and companion to advise with. Until then 
he must look to his own personal safety, and in that 
he found matter for serious reflection. However, let 
come what would, he must find rest and repose before 
he could endure much more of labor. He had not 
slept for many hours, and his mind had been on the 
stretch continuously, and, as a natural result, he was 
worn and weary in both flesh and spirit. 

The day broke while he was about midway between 
St. Jean and St. Paul’s, and just as the sun was lifting 
its glowing disk above the distant line of wooded hills 


tfife WAYSIbE cot. 


m 


lie came to a wayside cot, standing a short distance 
from the road, upon an arm of the sea, over which was 
thrown a floating bridge of withed logs, passable for 
men and beasts, but of no avail to a vehicle on wheels. 
Two well-built boats moored near the cot, and nets 
hanging upon poles evidently rigged for that purpose, 
would seem to indicate that the master of the house- 
hold was a fisherman, as the only signs of agricul- 
tural pursuit in sight was a tiny kitchen garden, 
in which were ripening a few early summer vege- 
tables. 

The adventurer drove his horse down to the quaintly 
constructed bridge, not quite sure that the animal could 
be urged across, but he was happily disappointed ; for 
the horse, having given a sniff and a snort, and daintily 
pawed the nearest log, finally tossed his head with a 
sort of defiant, self-confident air, and started across. 
Some of the logs sank lower than others, but the withes 
were firmly bound, and the structure gave the horse 
and rider safe transit. Arrived upon the opposite bank 
of the inlet, Louis turned up to the cot, where he dis- 
mounted and rapped upon the door-post with the pom- 
mel of his whip. The summons was quickly answered 
by a man in his night-cap and drawers— a middle-aged, 
medium-sized, weather-beaten, grizzled and muscular 
man, with the air of the sea and the coast in every line 
and lineament. 

The count stated his situation of fatigue and hun- 
ger, and also the needs of his horse, and he begged the 
man, if it lay in his power, to give him relief. 

The man stepped out upon the broad stone before 
the door, and as his eyes fell upon the horse his coun- 
tenance changed. He stamped his foot furiously, and 
uttered an oath. 

“ Eh bien ! There are not ten horses in France will 


108 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


cross that bridge. This is one that knows the pass. 
Where did you find him ?” 

For a moment the count hesitated. He saw that the 
man was deeply moved, and the sight of the horse had 
done it. In fact, as the cotter ran his eyes over the 
beast a second time, his wrath became terrible and 
beyond his power to control. 

“ See here,” he cried upon receiving no immediate 
answer, “ how came you by that horse ?” 

We may here remark that the full light of day 
revealed that the horse was a superb Andalusian, and 
and that the caparison was ornate and costly, bearing 
upon the flaps of the saddle and upon the head-piece a 
knightly crest. 

Louis thought very quickly now, and a glimmer of 
the truth flashed upon him. Very likely the horse had 
belonged to some man whom the wrecker had known 
and revered. If such were the case the simple truth 
would serve him best ; so he said, in a frank but 
guarded manner : 

“ My good friend, these are troublous times, and no 
man knows what the hand of a stranger may do ; but 
since I ask you to befriend me, I will trust you. During 
the night just passed I was pursued by men seeking my 
life. One of them rode this horse. My own horse had 
been shot in the leg and had become unserviceable, so 
I made the exchange.” 

“ Ah ! And he who rode this horse — what of him ?” 

“ Can you not guess ?” 

“ I care not to guess. What company was he in ?” 

“ A company commanded by the Mayor of Arras — 
Gideon de Bar.” 

“ Why did you not shoot Gideon de Bar himself?” 

“ Because he kept himself out of the way and set on 
his hounds.” 


THE WAYSIDE COT. 


109 


“Oho ! I see. And you shot the man who rode this 
horse ?” 

“ Yes/’ 

The man's face cleared and a glow of triumph 
replaced the look of wrath upon it. He put forth his 
hand, saying as he did so : 

“ It is well, mon brave! I* faith, thou art a hero! 
Thou art one grand friend of all honest men. Dost 
know how the man was called who rode this 
horse ?” 

“No. I only know that he was a large, strong, dark- 
visaged man, wearing the garb of the Arras Commune 
and leader of some sort among the rascals who sought 
to capture me.” 

“ And whom did these rascals seek to capture ?” 

“ My good man,” said Louis, with a smile at the 
other’s quaint persistence, “ you must remember that 
you are a stranger to me.” 

“ I am a friend to France, young man. Art thou ?” 

“ I call myself so.” 

“Then you would gladly cut the throat of a Jaco- 
bi** £” 

“ I can truthfully swear to you, my friend, and I am 
bold to do so, that I would, if it lay in my power, stop 
the onward course of the Jacobin Club.” 

“Very well. That is enough. Thou shalt have food 
and rest to thy heart’s content, for know that Pierre 
Lefranc never yet turned away a true man from his 
humble door.” 

“ Pierre Lefranc !” repeated the count, in glad sur- 
prise. “ Then you are Blanchette’s uncle.” 

“ Oho, who art thou that knows Blanchette ? Hold ! 
I know thee ! I thought that face had something in it 
wonderfully familiar. If thou art not the son of Louis 
de Liancourt, then my eyes are false.” 


110 


THE SHADOW OE THE GUILLOTINE. 


“ Louis de Liancourt was my father ; and I am, also, 
called Lotiis.” 

“Aye — I remember; but enough of that for now. 
Let us look to thy horse, and then find a seat for thy- 
self ; and after that I shall ask thee for intelligence. 
As we go to give this honest beast repose I may inform 
thee that he was the property of a dear friend of mine, 
Sir Richard de Vernoil.” 

“ De Vernoil,” repeated Louis. “I remember him 
well. He was a friend of my father’s and an unswerv- 
ing supporter of the king.” 

“Yes,” said Lefranc, “ and his loyalty cost him his 
head. It fell not a week ago — one of the grandest in 
France, and the beatings of a grand heart were stopped ! 
The Jacobins of Arras did it.” 

“ And what had Sir Richard done,” asked our hero, 
“ that they found complaint against him so grave ?” 

“ ‘Grave !’ ” echoed the cotter, with bitter contempt. 
“ Do those demons want for cause when they seek a 
man’s life ? No! It was enough that he would not 
put on the red cap, and cry: ‘ Vive la Revolution ! ’ He, 
brave and true, shouted : ‘ Vive le Roi /’ and they cut off 
his head. He was my friend. He gave me this cot 
and the bit of land around it. Oh, when I saw his 
horse, and not himself, and remembered what had 
been done, my heart was pained. But you can judge, 
Sir Count.” 

At this juncture they had reached a little thatched 
shed, where comfortable quarters were found for the 
beast, and plenty of provender ; and when this had 
been attended to, they repaired to the cot, where Dame 
Lefranc was found stirring. She was a small, bustling 
woman, bright and pleasant, and when she knew who 
was the guest her joy was exuberant. 

While the dame prepared breakfast — and it required 


THE WAYSIDE COT. 


Ill 


time — Louis de Liancourt told his story ; and as his 
hearers had known his father of old, he had to tell of 
him. The elder De Liancourt had gone to America 
with his son, leaving his estates of Capelle and Mire- 
mont in charge of a faithful steward, with the Marquis 
of St. Omer to overlook more important matters. In 
America, at Philadelphia, the old count had died, leav- 
ing his son to wear his title and possess his property. 

Then Louis told of his completing his college course 
at Princeton and of his return. He told how he had 
found his grand old chateau of Miremont in ruins, de- 
stroyed by the Jacobin mob for the purpose of plun- 
der. He also told of his adventure upon the high- 
way, when he had fallen in with the Jacobin assassins 
about to kill two appointed victims, then of his arrival 
at St. Jean, and the events following, which brought 
him to the present time. 

Pierre Lefranc listened with undivided interest, and 
having asked a very few questions upon points about 
which he wanted further light, he bent his head upon 
his hand, and remained in silent thought until his wife 
announced that the meal was prepared. 

Louis jumped up at the sound of her voice, and 
gazed, for an instant, wildly about him. He had fallen 
soundly asleep. The event caused a laugh, and the 
following of a few jocose remarks, under the healthful 
influence of which they drew up to the table, and par- 
took of the meal. At its conclusion the guest was 
shown at once to a comfortable bed, in a little room 
away in a far corner, where he was very soon lost to 
all earthly things, not even a dream coming to break 
his slumber. 

De Liancourt slept until he was aroused by a hand 
upon his shoulder, and, on starting up, he found Pierre 
Lefranc by his bedside. 


112 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


“ I am sorry to break your rest, Sir Count, for you 
were sleeping grandly, but the minutes just now may 
be valuable. You have slept five hours — ” 

“ So long ?” cried Louis, springing to the floor. 

“ Yes. It is now almost ten o’clock in the forenoon. 
There you will find a ewer and basin with water and a 
towel. When your toilet is complete you will find me 
in the other room.” 

It required but a short time for the guest to wash 
and dress, and upon entering the living-room, he found 
a repast upon the table. There were fresh fish, nicely 
cooked ; warm cakes direct from the oven ; with early 
grapes and melons. The host saw the look of surprise 
with which his guest regarded the spread, and, as he 
moved a chair to the table, he said : 

“You will excuse me, sir, for the liberty I take ; but 
when you have left my cot you may not find food again 
for several hours ; and your stay here ought not to be 
long. I know it is soon to eat again, but you will stand 
fatigue better for a good meal.” 

The good dame said a word of cheer, and expressed 
the hope that the count had an appetite. His reply 
was smiling and gallant. The man must be senseless, 
indeed, who, arising from a good sleep, could not find 
his appetite quickened by such display, and such tempt- 
ing aroma, as now greeted his senses. 

And, in good truth, our hero did find an appetite. 
Anxious to enjoy sound sleep, he had not eaten heartily 
of the previous meal, so that now he was in perfect 
tune for what seemed to him a breakfast, and he did a 
justice to the viands that amply repaid the benevolent 
dame for all her care and trouble. As he arose from 
the table he put his hand into his pocket and drew forth 
his purse, but he was told to put it back. 

“You have not done with me yet, Sir Count, and I 


THE WAYSIDE COT. 


113 


have to ask your pardon for a great liberty that I have 
taken. As for taking your money, we would not do 
it under any circumstances ; but wait until we see the 
end. In the first place I have taken away your horse, 
and put him beyond your reach. Wait, here me 
through. Pursuers are on your track, and they will be 
very sure to come this way. Should you leave here in 
the saddle, they would follow you without difficulty, 
for that horse is a sure mark, quickly impressed on the 
mind of such as see him, and not to be forgotten. The 
hamlet of St. Paul is filled with Jacobins of the most 
violent kind. If you were to go there upon that horse, 
your arrest would be certain. You must go by water. 
I have a good boat — one safe to cross the channel in, 
if necessary. We will put off in her, and thus give 
-the hounds the slip ; and when they come this way, 
and stop here to inquire, they will not find the horse 
to betray both you and me. I have taken him away 
to a safe place, where, if you ever want him, and 
can come for him, you will find him. Ha ! Hark ! 
Hark !” 

It was the tramp of horses which had caused the 
wrecker’s exclamation, and upon going to the window 
he saw a number of horsemen dashing up from the 
direction of Saint-Jean-Sur-Mer. They came to the 
bridge of logs, but the horses would not take it, so they 
started to ford, the tide being out sufficiently to admit 
of passage in that way. 

“ My faith ! Did I not do well ?” cried Lefranc, as he 
turned back into the cot. “Here are six stout Jaco- 
bins, and I ’ll warrant they are thinking of the color of 
your blood. If they stop here we ’ll bless our stars that 
Sir Richard’s horse is out of the way.” 

“ Aye,” said Louis, making a motion toward the room 
were he had left his sword and pistols, “ but it looks 


114 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


as though they would find something that might please 
them better.” 

“ Stop ! Not that way. If Monsieur le Comte thinks 
the dogs can find him here, he is greatly mistaken ; 
but,” the host went on, in a more serious key, “ I must 
trust you with a secret which you shall never reveal. 
Swear to me upon your honor, that you will never 
speak of the place to which I shall lead you !” 

“ Pierre, I would die sooner than betray you to 
harm !” 

“ I believe you. Now bring your sword and port- 
manteau. Quick !” 

Louis sprang into the bedroom and caught up the 
articles belonging to him, and when he came back he 
found that his host had lifted a trap-door in the floor — 
a trap so adroitly fitted with its companion tiles that 
the eye of no stranger could detect it — and below the 
aperture thus opened appeared the head of a ladder. 

“ Down, monsieur ! I will give you light enough to 
find the bottom, and there you will sit down and re- 
main quiet.” 

The count needed no urging. The horses had forded 
the inlet, and were approaching the cot. He sprang to 
the ladder and descended swiftly, thanking Heaven as 
he did so for the sturdy friendship which had thus be- 
fallen him. What must have been his fate had not his 
host had the will and the forethought to remove the 
horse and provide this retreat ? As he came to the 
“bottom of the ladder he comprehended the reason for 
the pledge he had been required to give. The vault 
was spacious enough to contain a great many boxes, 
looking wonderfully like boxes of tobacco, and of sugar, 
besides barrels and kegs of spirits — the hide of a con- 
trabandist ! The adventurer had made this discovery 
and gained an easy seat when, the trap closing, he was 


THE Wayside cof. 


115 


left in total darkness. He could not see, but he could 
hear very distinctly. He heard the tramp of the 
horses as they came to the door of the cot, and pres- 
ently he heard the tread of feet and the jingling of 
spurs upon the floor over his head, and then the sounds 
of loud voices demanding intelligence of a fugitive 
whom they were eager to secure. The most the count 
could do at that moment was to sit with clasped hands 
and bated breath and pray that fortune might befriend 
him. And his prayer was not without the breathing of 
gratitude ; for, as he realized the deadly errand of the 
swearing troopers, he more keenly realized and appre- 
ciated the wonderful chance of the unexpected friend- 
ship that had been vouchsafed. 




CHAPTER X. 

“ OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE !” 

With movements as rapid and effective as could have 
been made under the circumstances, Dame Lefranc 
removed the food and the dishes from the table and 
cleared away every vestige of the meal. She had been 
subject to danger from over-inquisitive visitors for so 
long and so often, that she had come to consider every 
point the very moment the alarm was given. Where a 
thousand and one women would have grown faint and 
screamed for help, she looked instantly around to see 
what should first be done, and what should be done 
next after that. She had been too often upon the 
verge of detection — too often very near to arrest by 
the officers of the customs — not to realize and call 
instantly to mind that the most important discoveries 
are often the result of accident, and that so simple a 
thing as the appearance of the dining-table, set out with 
full show for a regular meal at that unseemly hour, 
might suggest to the coming visitors questions which 
she would not answer for her life. She had made a 
clean sweep and had taken her seat at a window with 
a pan of turnips in her lap, when the troopers, six of 
them, rode up and hailed the house ; but without 

fn6] 



117 


“out of the frying-pan into the fire !” 

waiting for a response, three of the horsemen dis- 
mounted and entered the room where Pierre and his 
wife sat. 

The foremost of the trio Pierre recognized as a man 
who had formerly heen guilty of about all the capital 
crimes known to the law. He had been a smuggler, 
both by sea and by land ; he had been also a robber 
upon the sea and upon the land — a pirate and a high- 
wayman — he had been a killer of men for hire, and from 
his youth up to middle age he had been a knave and a 
scoundrel. He was called Simon of Werwood — a dark- 
browed, broad-shouldered man, brutish in look and 
brutish of voice ; and the moment our hero in his 
hiding-place heard that voice, he recognized it as the 
same which had been last in his ears as he rode away 
upon the horse of the man who had fallen beneath his 
hand. 

“ Ho, Master Lefranc, I find thee in good time. 
Thou hast sharp eyes and observing. Who has ridden 
by thy place since early morning ?” 

“ I have seen only one man,” answered the host, 
promptly, “ and he, I think, was fleeing from the 
officers of the law. At all events, he was upon a horse 
E can swear had been stolen.” 

“ Ha ! What horse was it ?” 

“ One that formerly belonged to Sir Richard de 
Vernoil.” 

“ Aye — the aristocrat has met his reward ! And this 
man rode by on his horse ?” 

“ Yes — I can swear it.” 

“ Did he stop here ?” 

“Yes — long enough to swallow a cup of sour wine, 
and to ask the way to Montreuil.” 

“Bah ! He must have known little of Pierre Lefranc 
if he put up with wine that was not of the best. Bring 


lie 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


forth thy choicest vintage, man, and give ns goodly 
measure.” 

“ Ah, Simon,” said the cotter, with a light laugh, 
“ thou knowest my old trade, and I am bold to say to 
thee, that though I have no hand now in trade that is 
contraband, I have a few measures of the old wine 
left. If you will honor me, you shall have the very 
best.” 

Simon signified that he would pass judgment upon 
the wine ; and while the host was gone to procure , it, 
he went to the door and spoke to one of his followers, 
who immediately, in company with another, rode off 
toward the outbuildings. Pierre kept wine for use in 
the larder, and he brought forth the very best he had, 
knowing full well that his guests could not be imposed 
upon in that article. The chief and two of his followers 
drank all that the host had brought in his flagon, and 
more was demanded for the three men who had been 
sent out to investigate. The flagon had been refilled 
and brought back when the scouts came in with the 
report that a horse had been that morning stalled in 
one of the outhouses. 

“ What !” cried Simon, with a start. 

“ Oh !” exclaimed Pierre Lefranc, contemptuously. 
“ I could have told you all that. And I could have 
told you more, which I don’t believe you particularly 
noted — that the horse had been gone these four hours 
and more. If you hope to overtake that beast, you ’ll 
have to move smartly.” 

Simon, of Werwood, scratched his head, and having 
swallowed more wine, and pushed what was left over 
to the three last-comers, he went out to the stall, where 
he very soon satisfied himself that Pierre must have 
told the truth. The horse had been there, but had 
been gone several hours. 


“out of the frying-pan into the fire !” 


119 


Whether it was the effects of the generous wine, or 
whether a remembrance of their old-time association 
in cheating the revenue softened him toward his host, 
we cannot surely say ; but, contrary to what might 
have been expected, the chief of the Jacobin squad did 
not vent his spite upon the dwellers in the cot. He be- 
lieved his game was ahead of him, and he was anxious 
to run it down, and without further delay — with not a 
suspicion that the man he sought was within sound of 
his voice — he ordered his followers to saddle again, and 
was shortly afterward dashing away upon the road to 
the north. 

As soon as the troopers had got well away Pierre 
lifted the trap, and the count came forth into the light 
of day, filled with a gratitude for the service which had 
been rendered ; but the good host did not care to listen 
to many words of thanks, and, besides, there was work 
to do. 

“ It is bad,” said Pierre, as he ran over in his mind the 
chances before them, “ that St. Paul’s should have 
been appointed as the place of your meeting. As I 
have already told 3 r ou, the place is full of Jacobins, and 
very likely the messengers have come across the coun- 
try from the Castle of Saint Jean with intelligence of 
your flight. If you will go direct to the English coast 
I will run you there, and I will then get word to Martin 
Duval, if I can.” 

The count thanked his kind host most heartily for 
his disinterested devotion to his interest, but he could 
not pass St. Paul’s without answering Martin’s signal. 

“Well,” pursued Lefranc, after further considera- 
tion, “ if you are determined to venture on shore at that 
point you must at least allow me to furnish you with a 
suit of sailor’s clothes. You may be able so to disguise 
yourself as to be safe.” 


120 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


This struck the count as being reasonable, and he 
readily consented ; and, when he had resolved to adopt 
the masquerade of the sea, he thought it might be bet- 
ter to make the change at once, and thus he would be 
less liable to detection by a chance passer before the 
boat could put off. 

Pierre brought forth his stock of clothing, a goodly 
quantity and varied assortment, and assisted his guest 
in selecting. He was himself a shorter man than Louis, 
and smaller in every way, but he had in charge much 
clothing belonging to others, or which was held for the 
use of others, and from this the selection was made. 
The change was made complete throughout — from top 
to toe and from jacket to under-vest — so that when the 
work had been done Louis de Liancourt looked as little 
like a nobleman of France as he did like a Hottentot 
chief. His face was dark enough, and the putting on 
of a shocky, sandy wig, and the griming of his hands 
with a tanning bark made the metamorphosis com- 
plete. 

The count’s own garments were made up into a snug 
bundle and carried to the boat, as were the other things 
which he must take with him. Dame Lefranc put up 
a basket of provisions, with a few bottles of wine, her 
husband looking to the filling of the water-breaker. 

The boat was large enough to admit of a cuddy for- 
ward in which two men could sleep ; was lugger- 
rigged and ballasted for sea-going. When all was 
ready, Louis forced upon the good dame two broad 
gold pieces, which she took with a gratitude made 
manifest in unbidden tears. Pierre saw, and was not 
cruel enough to object, but he said, with a degree of 
firmness which bespoke decision : 

“ So be it, Monsieur le Comte, but remember that 
you offer nothing to me. You will hurt me if you do.” 


“out of the frying-pan Into the fire !” 


121 


“ Then, my good friend,” returned Louis, feelingly, 
“ know that you have my gratitude and my love for all 
time.” 

“ It shall be so. And now let us be off. The tide 
floats the lugger and the wind is fair.” 

The distance to the Point of St. Paul was not more 
than three leagues, and as the breeze was fresh, and 
abaft the lugger’s beam, she was but little more than 
an hour in making the run. It was very near noon 
when they set forth, so it was yet in the middle of the 
day when they ran up toward the landing. 

The Point of St. Paul, so-called — or the hamlet of 
that name — was a sheltered nook, surrounded on three 
sides by high land. The main land, to the east, was a 
wooded hill, which hill, broken into a rugged cliff, ex- 
tended into the sea, where it terminated in a high 
promontory bending to the south, and on this southern 
side, toward the main, was a deep indentation, opening 
a harbor half a mile in diameter, and so nearly a circle 
of shore that not more than twenty yards of sea-way 
was left for an entrance. From the edge of this basin 
the land sloped easily upward toward the cliffs, afford- 
ing room for quite a settlement. It was, in fact, one 
of the snuggest and safest harbors on the whole coast, 
and so curiously hidden from the sea that a stranger 
might have passed to and fro many times, and close in 
shore at that, without suspecting that an inlet of any 
kind lay behind the bold promontory. In other years 
the smugglers and free-traders generally had held this 
place as a safe retreat, but the cruisers of the customs 
had found it, and at the time of which we write the 
vessel lying there was more apt to be armed in the ser- 
vice of the government than in any other calling. Let 
it not be supposed from this that the contrabrandists 
were strangers in the hamlet. No, no — there were 


122 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

many landings to the northward, and secret paths 
among the broken rocks leading to St. Paul’s, so that 
considerable business was still done between the tra- 
ders of the settlement and the smugglers. 

And few men on the coast were so well known in St. 
Paul’s as was Pierre Lefranc. He had told to the 
count that the hamlet was filled with Jacobins, but the 
Revolutionists thus spoken of were not original deni- 
zens of the place, but rascals and malcontents who had 
come in from the back country to a point where they 
could concentrate their efforts, and whence they could 
issue forth to confiscate and pillage as they found op- 
portunity. 

As the lugger came near to the promontory, Pierre 
pointed out to the count where was the entrance to 
the little bay. The latter could see nothing save a 
slight unevenness in the coast-line, but he knew how 
deceptive such entrances were, and he was not sur- 
prised when informed that a very few minutes would 
bring them to the settlement. 

“ Monsieur le Comte,” said the boatman, with solemn 
seriousness, “ I can yet keep on, if you desire. The 
distance to the Kentish coast of England is not more 
than seventeen leagues, and I can promise to land you 
there before another morning.” 

“ Are you so fearful of my landing here in Saint 
Paul’s, my friend ?” 

“ Of course I am fearful ; and yet, you may do it 
without harm. Do not let me prevent you from doing 
as you wish.” 

“ Good Pierre, I am more grateful to you than I can 
tell, and I know that you mean the very best in your 
suggestion ; but I must find Martin if he be here, and 
that he will be here I am very sure. He is not a man 
to fail in his undertakings, if human strength and skill 


123 


“out of the frying-pan into the fire !” 

and wit can avail. He had opportunity to say to me 
that if we both escaped we would meet at the Point of 
St. Paul. I know that he must have escaped. In fact, 
I doubt if much effort was made to secure him. He 
was not on the field when I left. Be sure he is here 
waiting for me ; and, if he is, I would not miss him 
for the world. He is as necessary to me, in the work 
I have to do, as is my own right hand. Ah, Martin — 
so true, so brave and so loyal ! I should be guilty if I 
did not seek him.” 

“ Say no more, sir count. We will land. And you 
will not forget that you are a follower of the sea, and 
humble enough to be my servitor.” 

“ That is my character for the present, Pierre, and 
be sure I will not forget it.” 

Very shortly after this the lugger passed a point of 
jagged rock, and the beautiful basin of St. Paul’s, with 
the hamlet beyond, was exposed to view. It was a 
pretty sight, and even the burden of care upon our 
hero’s mind did not prevent him from enjoying it. At 
a favorable point, Pierre tackqd, and stood into the 
harbor, running direetly for a landing to which he was 
used, and bringing up alongside in a skillful manner. 

“ Here we are ! Look sharp, Dennis ! Let go the 
halliard ! Keep the sail out of the water ! Move 
lively, mon enfant !” 

Pierre nodded with great satisfaction when he saw 
how readily and expertly his assistant adapted himself 
to the situation, and probably the loungers on shore, of 
whom there were quite a number, had never seen a 
common sailor whom they thought better adapted to 
the place he occupied. Really, the count’s sojourn of 
almost five years in Republican America, among a free 
people, and associating upon terms of perfect equality 
with the hard-handed sons of toil, had given him ex- 


124 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


cellent education for the part he was now called upon 
to enact. 

The man who owned the quay to which Pierre had 
made fast, or who had charge of it, agreed, for a very 
small sum, to stand guard over the lugger for two 
hours, and to be responsible for all damage, save such 
as might be done by fire or flood or the force of arms, 
and having made this arrangement, the old seaman led 
the way up into the town. 

“ Of course,” he said, as he had said before, “ if 
Martin has arrived he has sought one of the respect- 
able inns. There are but two of them, at both of which 
I am acquainted, and I will make inquiries.” 

But no inquiry was needed. At the very first inn 
they visited, in the low, dingy hall, stood Martin Duval, 
habited in the garb of a common peasant of the coun- 
try. He turned as he heard the tread of feet upon the 
door-stone, and the first glance was decisive. He was 
in the deep shadow, but the count, just stepping upon 
the stone, was in the strong light, with the sunbeams 
full upon his face. The watcher could not be mis- 
taken. With his finger raised warningly, he whispered 
his master’s family name. 

Louis started quickly, and as quickly recognized his 
faithful follower. 

“ ’Sh !” uttered Martin, moving so as to brush his 
shoulder against the count. “ Speak not a word, but 
follow me.” 

He cast a quick, searching glance around, and then 
ascended the stairs, leading the way to a chamber, 
which he entered, followed by his master. As soon as 
the latter was in, the esquire closed the door, but as he 
started to lock it, Louis caught his arm. 

“ Hold ! Where is old Pierre ?” 

“ Is he your friend ?” 


OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE !” 


125 


“ I should think so. He is Pierre Lefranc — Blan- 
chette’s uncle.” 

“ That is good. If he is all that, my master, do not 
worry. Be sure he has remained behind to watch. He 
is wise. My soul, there is trouble for us if we do not 
steer clear of it. I am glad I have been able to bring 
you up here without attracting notice. Oh, how I have 
been waiting and watching. Sir Louis, you had an 
adventure on the road after you rode away from the 
mayor’s posse ?” 

“ Yes, Martin ; and I shot a man who would have 
killed me had the power been his.” 

“Aye,” pursued Martin, with a significant shrug of 
his shoulders. “ I have heard about it. Do you know 
whom you killed ?” 

“No.” 

“ It was a bloodthirsty villain called Dion of Werwood, 
and I must believe that his brother has gained a clue 
to your steps, and is following them.” 

“ Ha ! Is it the man called Simon of Werwood ?” 

“ The same.” 

And thereupon our hero told the story of his combat 
on the road ; of his arrival at the wayside cot ; the 
finding of Pierre ; the friendship of the man ; the meal 
and the sleep ; and then of the other meal, and of the 
coming of Simon of Werwood and his companions in 
pursuit, and of the manner in which Pierre had sent 
them on their way. 

“ Aye,” cried Martin, who had listened with deepest 
interest ; “and those hounds of the Jacobin Club are 
here, and — they have seen me. I caught their looks, 
and I know they recognized me. I was at the other 
inn, where I arrived before light this morning. I slept 
until the middle of the forenoon, and then made friends 
with the innkeeper and obtained this garb. He is a 


126 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


friend, though he has to hold his tongue. A little later 
I heard your name spoken and found that men had 
arrived from across the country who had been with 
Gideon de Bar. An hour after that came Simon of 
Werwood, and through the innkeeper I discovered that 
they had come by the way of Saint-Jean-Sur-Mer, and 
had heard of you on the route. Of course it was not 
difficult for them to learn who of those they saw had 
recently arrived, and when they set their eyes upon me 
I know they recognized me. I found them watching 
me. I could guess that they suspected my business. 
After that I did not try to hide. It would only have 
proved that I feared them. I wondered if they w r ould 
make any movement to arrest me. But no — they only 
sought to keep me in sight, to watch my movements. 
I guessed then that they hoped to entrap my master 
through me. The innkeeper befriended me. He let 
me know that two of those men had concealed them- 
selves where they could see if I was joined by a friend. 
He told me they were sure I expected somebody to 
join me there. My soul ! If my master comes here, 
said I to myself, he is lost ! I must get out of this. So 
I went out into the street, and directly I found two of 
those men following me. I pretended not to notice, 
went hither and thither, until at length I struck a boat- 
house, through which several men in peasants’ garbs, 
like myself, were passing. I dodged in behind them, 
and the moment I had turned the angle of the entrance 
I jumped into a boat and crept under a loose sail. I 
saw my two pursuers enter, and they thought full sure 
I was with the peasants whom they saw passing out at 
the far end of the old shed. They kept on very slowly, 
and as soon as they were well away I leaped from the 
boat and ran out by the way of my entrance and found 
the coast clear. I had told the innkeeper I had left 


“out of the frying-pan into the fire !*' 12? 

that I was going to the other inn, that he might inform 
any true friend who should inquire for me. As I said, 
I found the coast clear, and I walked very rapidly for 
this place. Oh, how I did want to turn my head and 
look over my shoulder, just to see if my movement 
had been detected ; but I dared not. The very act 
might have fixed the revealing gaze upon me. I kept 
my eyes straight before me, and pushed on. This inn- 
keeper I dared not seek to tempt ; but I hired this 
room for a week, day and night, and paid in advance. 
I had been up here and had discovered what approaches 
and what means of exit my. windows commanded, and 
had then gone below to reconnoiter, when the way was 
suddenly darkened before me, and I lifted my eyes to 
behold the face of my master. 

“ And there, Monsieur le Comte, you have the story. 
I am sorry you have come. Oh, I fear me much I have 
unwittingly led you into a trap from which you will 
not escape. Ah, if I could have foreseen, I should 
never have spoken to you the name of this place.” 

“ Why do you fear such dire calamity ? We are 
free now, and have open space before us. Let us con- 
sider.” 

“ Open space before us ? Anything but open ! Have 
you not followed me, Louis ? Look at the situation : 
This hamlet, like a trap — as perfect a cul-de-sac as could 
be fashioned — is filled with Jacobin spies and cutthroats. 
They know that I am here, and that I am an attendant 
upon the Count Louis de Liancourt. The count they 
seek with a heartiness that is deadly. Where his ser- 
vant is there will they wait for him. Now mark : How 
long will it be before these keen-scented dogs will 
find you out ? They know ere this that two men 
have arrived in the lugger, and one of them a stran- 
ger. They will trace you hither — and they will 


128 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


trace me hither also ! Do you not see what that 
means ?” 

Before the count could reply the sound of feet was 
heard upon the stairs, as though a nimble man were 
leaping up two steps at a bound, and in a moment more 
came a light significant rap upon the door. 

“ That is not an enemy,” said Martin, as he went to 
withdraw the bolt. 

It was Pierre Lefranc with wide - open eyes and 
clenched hands, and his whole frame quivering with 
excitement. 

“ Good Pierre ! What is it ?” 

“ Oh, it is bad, Monsieur le Comte — horrible ! If we 
were only dashing away across the channel, instead of 
this ! But we must think and act. Let me in. There — 
shut the door and lock it ! Upon what does that win- 
dow look ? If we can make our exit that way, we 
must act while we talk. There is not a moment to be 
lost r 




“LOUIS DE LIANCOURT, I ARREST YOU.” — See Page 134 

























CHAPTER XL 

THE TRAP. 

Martin Duval comprehended the whole in a mo- 
ment, and without waiting for further light he sprang 
to the window and noiselessly opened the shutter. It 
looked down into a court connected with the stable on 
one hand, while on the other was an open arched way, 
in a thick wall, leading to a garden. Having taken in 
this at a glance, he drew the coverlet and a sheet from 
the bed and knotted them together ; and while he was 
thus engaged Pierre told what he had to tell. His 
speech was crisp and comprehensive. 

“ My lord, you are discovered ; or, you are suspected, 
which is all the same. They believe one of the men 
who came in the lugger is Louis de Liancourt. They 
have traced your servant to this inn ; and they have 
traced you and me hither, also. They will very soon 
find this room. The hall is guarded, and Simon of 
Werwood is only waiting for more of his men to come 
up, whom he has sent for. He is an arrant coward, 
and dares not attack save in force. He thinks he has 
you safely trapped, so he can afford to wait ; but it will 
be but a very few moments.” 


[129] 


130 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


The count nodded his gratitude, and then turned to 
his servant, who was just going to the window with 
his improvised rope. 

“ Martin, is escape possible by the window ?” 

“ It is possible, sir. If we can gain the garden, we 
may easily give them the slip.” 

De Liancourt gave a glance toward the garden which 
was pointed out, and then turned to Lefranc : 

“ My good, true-hearted friend, I want you to listen 
to me. If you go quietly out from this room, as though 
all business between you and me were at an end, they 
may not touch you. You must not entangle yourself 
in my affairs further. You could do us no good. 
Should you raise your hand against these men in my 
behalf, it would be your death. Think of your wife, 
Pierre, and leave me. It is my command. I will make 
it my prayer, if you insist.” 

“ His lordship speaks well,” put in Martin. “ And 
further than he ‘has said, two men can escape more 
easily than three.” 

“ My faith !” exclaimed the old sea-dog, with an im- 
patient stamp of the foot, “ we hope to give the hounds 
the slip. Do you not want my lugger ? Mercy on me, 
there is but one way. I know the path. Down into the 
garden — over the wall where you see the vines grow- 
ing — down a narrow pass, and our landing is before 
you. Death of my life ! I should never look up again 
if I let you leave me here like a timid rat ! My wife 
would not know me ! Out with the rope, Martin, and 
let us descend. Hark ! Hear ye those coming feet ? 
Quick ! This minute is ours. The next may be as an 
eternity, either of good or ill !” 

What could the count do? In fact, his situation 
admitted of but very little planning. He found him- 
self in one of those positions in relation to surrounding 


THE TRAP. 


131 


influences in which a man can only shut his teeth and 
meet his fate, simply resolved that the man who may 
rob him shall do so at the greatest possible cost to 
himself. 

Martin was inclined to approve the smuggler’s 
course. The lugger was their best objective point. If 
they could reach that, and cast off the shore-fast, they 
might laugh at their enemies ; so, without giving his 
master time for long consideration, he hurried him 
to the window, and gave the lope of bedding into his 
hands. 

The count heard the tread of heavy feet upon the 
stairs, and was willing to go out ; and when once he 
had given his energies in that direction, he went down 
with the agility of a cat, Martin following next, and 
landing by his side. The moment the esquire had 
touched terra firnia Pierre quickly drew up the bedding 
and separated it, and threw it back upon the bed. 
Louis thought full sure he had concluded to stay be- 
hind, but in this he was mistaken. No sooner had the 
bed been restored than the old sailor leaped upon the 
stool of the window, and swinging himself down from 
the ledge by his hands, he dropped to the ground with- 
out injury. He was a light, sinewy man, every part 
and particle tough and enduring, and he did not feel 
the shock at all as a shock. 

All this had been done much quicker than it could be 
told, and the bursting open of the chamber door accom- 
panied Pierre’s fall. Martin had marked the course 
necessary, and with a whisper to his master he leaped 
to the arch of the court wall, and glided into 
the garden beyond. The count was close behind him, 
and Lefranc brought up the rear, and as no note of 
alarm came from the chamber they had left, they 
reasonably assured themselves that they had not been 


132 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


seen. They could hear loud voices, however, though 
not the voice of Simon of Werwood ; or, if they heard 
it, they could not recognize it from the others. 

By a fortunate chance the window through which 
the fugitives had made their exit from the chamber 
was in a deep recess of the wall of the building, and 
shut out from possible observation by inmates of any 
other part of the auberge. There were windows of a 
neighboring dwelling commanding a view of that re- 
cess, and it might also be seen by a person in the 
court or in sothe parts of the garden ; but the court 
and the garden had been empty, and as for the neigh- 
boring house, there did not appear to have been 
watchers -there. 

Close under the garden-wall crouched our three 
friends, with Pierre now in the lead, and as swiftly as 
possible they crept on to the far end, where a mass of 
grape-vines was trained to the coping. 

“ Here,” said the sailor, as the three came to a stop 
at the spot where they must mount the wall, “ we must 
go over. We must run the risk of being seen from 
the window we left. Are you ready ?” 

They were ready. 

“ Then remember : The moment we are upon the 
other side we turn to the left, and go at the top of our 
speed. Follow me. Our landing is not far away, and 
once there, we are safe. Forward !” 

The stout vines were firmly fixed to the wall, and 
our adventurers were quickly over. Upon the coping 
Pierre gave one look over his shoulder to the window 
of the chamber they had left, but he saw no one there. 
An exclamation of satisfaction escaped him, and as it 
dropped from his lips he dropped from the wall upon 
the narrow walk beyond. He saw that his companions 
were with him, and he started upon the run. It was a 


THE TRAP. 


133 


narrow passage, between the w’alls, running down to a 
cross-way perhaps twenty yards distant. At the gain- 
ing of this cross-path Pierre turned again to the left, 
and having cleared the low, shambling building which 
stood against the outlet of the passage down which 
they had come, they found themselves upon the open 
quay, with the lugger not thirty yards away. 

A joyous exclamation was upon our hero’s lips, and 
he had turned to see if Martin were following, when 
he beheld his faithful servitor, standing as though sud- 
denly petrified ; his eyes and mouth opened wide ; his 
hands clutched with desperate energy ; and upon his 
face a look of deadly, paralyzing terror. A cry from 
Pierre Lefranc at the same time broke upon his ear. 

As Louis de Liancourt came out from the narrow 
alley into the open space his gaze had been attracted 
to the basin and the narrow passage of water beyond 
which lay liberty, and he had seen nothing else ; but 
now — ah ! Now he saw that which brought a groan 
up from the very depths of his heart, and sent a dull, 
deadening, despairing sensation through every fiber of 
his being. Thus it was : 

The quay was upon one side of a parallelogram, to 
the south ; on the opposite side, to the north, extended 
a long, low, rambling store-house of red stone, the same 
spoken of as having terminated the narrow passage 
between the two walls down which our friends had 
come from the garden of the inn. They had come 
down upon its rear side. These were the longest sides 
of the parallelogram, and about fifty yards in extent. 
The ends were perhaps half as long, and abutted by 
store-houses; Into this square led five passes — one at 
each of the corners next to the water, also one at each 
of the upper corners, besides an arched way through 
one of the store-houses. On the appearance of Pierre 


134 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


Lefranc at the month of the pass in the northeast cor- 
ner, a single man, in the garb of the sea, who had 
stood upon the quay near to the lugger, waved his cap 
in the air and gave a note of alarm. Martin had seen 
that ; and on the next instant he had seen every pass 
leading from the square filled with armed men, as 
though they had sprung up bodily from the ground. 
Even the pass by which they had entered was thus oc- 
cupied, six or eight Jacobin soldiers having dodged out 
from some cover in their rear. All told, there were at 
least fifty well-armed guardsmen, and very nearly that 
number of muskets were leveled at the fugitives. 

“ Ho la ! Ho la ho !” 

So shouted Simon of Werwood, advancing from the 
pass on the quay toward the town, and our friends 
now understood why they had not heard his voice in 
the chamber. 

“ Louis de Liancourt, in the name of the Constitution 
and the Assembly of France, I arrest you. If you 
make but a single sign of resistance, if one of your 
party makes a sign, be it never so slight, I shall give 
the order to fire. Extend to me the hilt of your sword. 
If you do not you die. We will have few words now. 
I should like very much to carry you alive to Arras, and 
thence to Paris ; but I can take you dead if you prefer. 
The hilt of your sword, Citizen de Liancourt.” 

The Jacobin chief had been slowly advancing while 
thus speaking, and as he spoke the last words he stopped 
and stamped his foot imperatively. 

Whatever the count might have done had he been 
alone, he was not inclined to subject his two friends to 
sure and instant death. Had there been a shadow of 
a chance in giving battle, he would have done so with- 
out hesitation. Could he have seen opportunity for 
conflict, had his opponents been armed only with 


THE TRAP. 


135 


swords, he would have dashed in and sought to cut his 
way ; but no such chance was his. It was as though his 
own hand held a doubly-loaded pistol, with the muzzle 
pressed against his temple. A movement of any kind, 
save that commanded, would discharge the fatal missile. 
Simple suicide was not the part of bravery, and he 
would not take it upon his hands. With a mighty 
effort he put back the bitter, burning words that leaped 
to his lips for utterance, feeling how childish and ridic- 
ulous is impotent rage, and drew his sword from its 
scabbard and turned it in his hand, holding it by the 
blade. 

“ Monsieur Simon,” he said, “ I cannot deliver up this 
sword without speaking a word in behalf of a man who 
has befriended me simply out of feelings of love and 
gratitude in memory of my father. Pierre Lefranc has 
thought nothing but to give help and succor to the son 
of a man who had been his true friend. May I not 
hope that you will deal gently with Pierre ?” 

“ We will see. It is not for me to say. I can only 
promise for now that our good Pierre is my prisoner. 
I will take your sword, monsieur.” 

The count surrendered his weapon, and very shortly 
thereafter he was surrounded, and a bond put upon 
his arms. He protested against the indignity, but no 
attention was paid to his protests. He quickly saw 
that his entreaties would be treated with scorn, and 
that his suffering gave real joy to his captors, and so 
seeing, he submitted in silence. After he had been 
bound, and while the Jacobin chief was consulting with 
some of his principal followers upon the subject of the 
lugger, Pierre Lefranc, who had been watching for the 
opportunity, glided up and whispered into his ear : 

“ My lord, borrow not one atom of trouble on my 
account. Whatever may be the will of Simon of 


136 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

Werwood, the most of his followers are my friends. 
I have given them cheap tobacco and sugar, and have 
given them good coffee to drink with their brandy. 
Ah, I have friends that I am not proud of, but I may 
thank God for them in this strait ! I have caught a 
glance here and there which tells me that I shall be 
set free. ’Sh, keep your eyes and ears open ! I will 
help you if I — ” 

The smuggler’s speech was cut short by the return 
of Simon, who had agreed with his companions that 
the lugger should, for the present, be left where it was, 
the master of the quay having promised to take good 
care of it. 

And then they set forth toward the town, going to 
the inn where Martin had first stopped, and where 
most of their horses had been left. Simon of Werwood, 
who was chief of the party, two-and-fifty in number 
— for he had taken command of those who had come 
across the country — made no secret of his plans. It 
was his intention to set forth at once for Arras, going 
by the way of Agincourt and St. Pol, and the first- 
mentioned place they meant to reach that evening. 
The whole distance was over twenty leagues, and 
Agincourt was a little over a third o'f the way. 

While Simon was giving orders for bringing up the 
horses and for bringing forth wine, Martin found 
opportunity to speak with his master. In fact, the 
care of the captors did not extend to preventing their 
prisoners from speaking together ; so the esquire had 
not much trouble in finding his opportunity, though he 
was very careful how he improved it. 

“ Hark, my lord !” he whispered, speaking in English, 
which tongue they both used almost like their own, 
and giving to his tones a musical cadence, as though 
humming a ballad. “ I shall try hard to escape. If I 


THE TRAP. 


137 


can help you to freedom, be sure I will do it, but I 
shall go myself, if I can, even though I should be 
forced to go without you. I can help you a great deal 
better from the outside of the prison than I can upon 
the inside. Do you comprehend that ?” 

“ Certainly, Martin.” 

“ And you would not think hard of me — you would 
not deem me unfeeling, or wanting in respect or devo- 
tion — if I should go off and leave you ?” 

“ My dear Martin,” replied our hero, with simple 
earnestness, “ I should feel a thousand times relieved 
to know that you were free. With you at liberty I 
should know that I had a true and devoted friend at 
work in my behalf. Truly, Martin, you could not do a 
more cruel deed to me than to remain in durance be- 
yond the opportunity to escape.” 

“ Good ! We understand one another now. I think 
I shall escape. They will not watch over me as they 
will watch over you. Oh, would to heaven I could set 
you ; but — ” 

“Hush! I understand it all, Martin. You will do 
for me what you can. Plague ! Here is the hound !” 

“ Now, mon enfant !” said Simon, addressingthe count 
with impudent jocularity, “we will move. When you 
come to your horse, if you will give me your word of 
honor that you will not try to escape, the bond shall 
be taken from your arms. Would it hurt your tongue 
to speak the word to Simon of Werwood ?” 

“I can speak it, sir, at any rate. Let me hope that 
will suffice.” 

“Oh, well, what care I ? It will answer. Come.” 

In the court the horses were ready — eight-and- 
twenty of them, there being five-and-twenty of the 
guardsmen told off for the expedition, the remainder 
of the Jacobin force having further work in that 


138 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

region. The horses selected for the prisoners were 
well-worn beasts, evidently from the plough and cart of 
the farm, and not such as would be likely to run away 
with their precious burden. 

As sorry as the beast looked which the count was to 
ride, he found him more sorry still in gait, acting as 
though he had never before, in the many and hard- 
working years of his life, worn a saddle ; but the rider 
was an expert, and all the virtues possible to the equine 
antique he contrived to develop. His bonds were cast 
off, as had been promised, and, after a time, and a great 
deal of patient and well-directed endeavor, he suc- 
ceeded in persuading the animal to trot quite respect- 
ably. 

It had been well into the afternoon when the caval- 
cade set forth from St. Paul’s, and night had fallen 
before they reached their stopping-place. The sky 
was clear, and though there was no moon, yet tire 
starry host, united with a soft radiance that seemed to 
have been retained from the departed day, so far re- 
lieved the gloom as to render* the way plain and easy 
and the travelling pleasant. 

Contrary to his expectations, the count’s captors did 
not seek in the least to add to the burden of his grief 
by any sort of harsh usuage. He had expected that 
they would treat him more like a dog than like a 
human being, and vent upon him their spleen for hav- 
ing led them such a chase, and for having slain more 
than one of their trusted friends ; but they did nothing 
of the kind. In fact, so entirely did they leave him to 
freedom of conversation with his two companions in 
captivity, merely riding where they could overhear if 
they chose to listen, and so politely and properly did 
the chieftain speak when addressing him, that he won- 
dered if they were not now giving to him a period of 


THE TRAP. 


139 

repose, with possible hope of ultimate good, in order 
that the ordeal sure to come might be the more severe. 
However, he did not seek to borrow trouble. He knew 
that the future was dark before him, and that his only- 
hope of life lay in the chance of sheer accident. 

Once or twice on the way, after the evening had 
fallen, Martin found opportunity to speak with his 
master unheard by others ; and as he spoke in a for- 
eign tongue, the overhearing by the Jacobins could not 
have mattered, even had they been near. The last oc- 
casion of his speaking was important. De Liancourt 
had observed that Pierre Lefranc had been manifestly 
uneasy for some time. The old sea-dog had been in 
conversation with two of the Jacobins, and had left 
them in wrath. He, on his part, swore to the guards- 
men that for a stiver he would throw the pair of them 
to the sharks, and rid the earth of a foul burden ; while 
they on their part, with equal heat of wrath and indig- 
nation, called all the powers above and below to wit- 
ness that it would afford them the greatest possible joy 
to cut off his head and give his carcass to the dogs. 

Simon of Werwood commanded silence: 

“ Oh,” cried one of the irate troopers, “ I ’ll tear his 
tongue out by the roots. He says my father was a 
pirate !” 

“ Ho, ho !” laughed a stout corporal of the troop. 
“ Why, bless thee, Ernest, thou must not be angry with 
the man for enlightening thee. He must have known 
thy father well.” 

“ Aye,” growled the man called Ernest, “but he has 
no business to flaunt my family secrets in that way. 
My father is dead — ” 

“ Aye,” broke in Pierre Lefranc, “ and he owed me a 
hundred and fifty francs, which I would like for you to 
pay.” 


140 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


“ Thou ’It get pay quickly enough, thou monster of 
the sea ! The guillotine makes quick settlements.” 

“ Stop !” thundered the chief. 

And under his wrathful word and look of command 
the two seemingly mad troopers fell back to the rear. 

Now in all this our hero had fancied that he could 
detect a piece of acting. He caught the impression 
from a look which he saw upon Martin’s face. And 
there was another source of knowledge. His percep- 
tive faculties were quick and strong, the reflectives 
working in perfect tune, and his interpenetration deep, 
searching and reliable. Add this to a keen and com- 
prehensive knowledge of human nature, and we have a 
mind not easily to be deceived, and never to be wholly 
lost. He had been with Pierre Lefranc in his home, 
and had there studied his character, and he could sim- 
ply swear that, of his own free will and accord, the old 
sailor would never be guilty of such vulgar, aimless, 
impotent rage as he had just now appeared to exhibit. 
As for the chief of the troop and his immediate associ- 
ates, the slough of just such rage and cursing was nat- 
ural to them, and the fact that the prisoner wallowed 
in it might serve to bring him nearer to their regard, 
and remove unfavorable suspicion further from him. 

But the count was not long to be left to his mere 
surmises in this respect. The two cursing troopers 
had fallen to the rear, and the old seaman had given 
himself to his mutterings of righteous indignation, 
when Martin Duval touched his master upon the arm 
and pronounced his name. He had something of im- 
portance to communicate, and the moments at their 
command might be very few. 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE ! 

Simon of Werwood and two or three boon com- 
panions who had been imbibing with him from a 
certain leathern bottle of goodly proportions borne 
upon one of the pack-saddles were particularly jolly 
over what they deemed the ridiculous wrath of their 
man Ernest, and the chief was really not sorry that 
the little play of spiteful words had occurred to relieve 
the monotony that had come with the eventide. 

Pierre Lefranc, after his two disputants had fallen 
to- the rear, contrived to gain Martin’s side, and to hold 
• with him a conversation which lasted for several 
minutes undisturbed. They conversed in two keys, 
and in two directions ; one was meant to be overheard, 
while the other was private and sacred. 

It was after this latter conversation that Martin 
passed the signal to his master, and gained opportunity 
to whisper into his ear. Their words were apparently 
light, and in English. Said Martin : 

“ Did you not guess, my master, that the passage 
between Pierre and those two men was a farce, with a 
more serious matter behind it ?” 

“ Yes, Martin ; I thought so.” 

“And so it was. Those two are Pierre’s friends. 

[ho 


142 


THE SHADOW OE THE GtHLLoTltfE. 


They have sailed with him, and braved many a danger 
with him, and now they will help him if they can ; and 
he, in turn, will help us. If it lies in his power he will 
set us free under cover of the night. It is curious how 
the mass of the people revere the man who has so long 
and so persistently braved the laws of the realm, and 
all, as they feel, for the purpose of furnishing them 
with cheap luxuries. But, Sir Louis, it may be that he 
cannot reach us. It may be that he can reach one of 
us, and not the other. If it should happen so to be, 
the, one set free must go. He must go, and devote his 
every energy after that to the liberation of his friend. 
But of this be sure : Pierre will do for us all that lies 
in his power. ’Sh, here is a guard ! You have warn- 
ing. Keep eyes and ears open.” 

It might have been half an hour after this — perhaps 
nine o’clock, or thereabout — when Pierre Lefranc, rid- 
ing by the count’s side, reached over and touched him 
upon The arm. 

“ Does Monseigneur see yonder hill with the ragged 
top standing out against the sky like the part of an old 
broken wall ?” 

The night was clear and calm, and the stars were 
glittering in all their glory. There was no moon and 
there were no clouds, and where the sky afforded a 
background the outlines of distant objects could be 
distinctly seen. Louis looked in the direction pointed 
out, and saw the hill. 

“ Aye,” he said ; “ I see, and what you liken to an 
old broken wall looks like an ancient ruin.” 

“ So it is, my lord. Do you know that we are riding 
over one of the grandly historic spots of France ? If 
it were daylight you could see, off here to the right, the 
spread of soft marsh where the hosts of Burguftdy once 
upon a time were pushed to the death by the blind 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE ! 


143 


folly of their own leaders. Yonder old ruin is all that 
is left of the once famed Castle of Agincourt, and the 
spot over which we are now riding is a part of the 
field whereon was fought that celebrated battle— about 
the only battle, I think, in which a French force that 
should have been overwhelming was overcome and 
routed by a force very much smaller. This is the field 
of Agincourt.” 

Instinctively the count raised his cap, and when he 
spoke his voice told how deeply he felt. 

“ The Field of Agincourt ! It was a wonderful battle, 
Pierre. Henry of England inspired his men with the 
spirit of heroism until every man was a champion, 
while poor Charles of France, trusting his interests in 
the hands of rival chieftains, led on a huge mass that 
became but as a mob ! And yonder is the castle that 
gave that battle its name ! There is grandeur about it 
yet. And of course the village of Agincourt cannot be 
far distant.” 

“ It must be close at hand, my lord. Ha ! There 
are the lights of its cottages now.” 

The village was soon reached, and its best tavern 
was selected by the Jacobin chief for the use of himself 
and troop. His first care was to make provision for 
supper, and his next for the safe-keeping of his prison- 
ers. His arrangements in this latter respect plainly 
revealed his estimate of the relative value of the cap- 
tives. Simple heads for the guillotine were plenty 
enough in France. They could be gathered in by the 
dozen — by the score — by the hundred — as they were 
wanted to fire the hearts of the Revolutionists and 
satisfy the craving for blood ; but the head of a 
count was not to be found every day, and, when found, 
the condemnation was not sure unless a direct act 
could be proved. In the present case enough could be 


144 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


proved against Louis de Liancourt to condemn a whole 
family to death. If he were to escape, there was not 
another prisoner in the department of Artois who could 
fill the place ; so Simon of Werwood simply determined 
that he should be held fast, and to this end he selected 
a chamber of the tavern that answered well his pur- 
pose. In it he lodged the count, and set two troopers 
whom he could trust to stand guard over him. He told 
off six men for this work, two of them to be on duty 
together, and to be relieved every two hours. 

Pierre Lefranc and Martin Duval were suffered to 
occupy a room together, but with a sentinel posted at 
their door. 

The two men who held the first watch over the count 
treated him respectfully, save that they did not allow 
him to pass from their sight. They offered to help 
him undress, and gave him to understand that he 
•might look to them for any service which strict obedi- 
ence to their duty would allow them to render ; but 
the one favor which he most desired — to be left alone 
with his own thoughts — they could not grant ; and he 
very soon assured himself that his guards were not to 
be tempted. 

And so passed the night. But little sleep visited the 
count's pillow, and even that was troubled and unre- 
freshing. He had not only to think of his own danger- 
ous situation, but he had to think what might be the 
situation of Ninon d’ Artois. She was in the power of 
Gideon de Bar, and his purposes were known. But 
youth and health, where truth and a good heart gov- 
ern the life, are not to be entirely cast down while 
there is a glimmer of light ; despair does not utterly 
chain the spirit while life and strength remain. There 
is always a space in the future which may be filled by 
merest chance ; and while the soul can find a lingering 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE ! 


145 


hope, it may pray that that chance may be fortunate, 
and the soul that can lift itself in earnest prayer is not 
entirely in the slough of despond. Louis de Liancourt 
could see no possible way of escape ; but he had not 
yet been condemned, and he would not believe that 
acquittal was impossible. 

With the first peep of the day the troop was astir, 
and the count was called to arise and make ready for 
his breakfast. He had turned out from the cot whereon 
he had slept, and was bathing his face over a basin of 
fresh water, when he heard a loud outcry in the court 
below, and very soon words reached his ear which gave 
him to know that there had been an escape. He had 
no difficulty in guessing what had come to pass. One 
of his guards, with the ready permission of his com- 
panion, went out to see what was the matter, and on 
his return he reported. 

Pierre Lefranc and Martin Duval had escaped ! But 
that was not what had caused the loudest outcry. Two 
men of the troop — men who had been of the detail told 
off for guarding those same prisoners — had gone with 
them. 

“ Who are they ?” our hero heard Simon of Werwood 
demand. 

“ The two brothers of Saint Paul’s — Ernest and 
Adolphe de Costar,” replied an officer. 

“ Ha ! Were not those the very men who had the 
quarrel on the road with the old smuggler ?” 

“ The very same, mon capitaine .” 

It would be useless to attempt to tell how the Jacobin 
chief cursed and swore. Not more was he moved by 
the escape of his prisoners than by the manner in 
which two men in whom he had trusted had deceived 
him. He told himself that he should have remembered 
that those brothers of St. Paul were notorious smugglers, 


146 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


and that he should have known that they were not the 
men to put on guard over one who had been their com- 
mander in former times. 

However, after he had cursed himself hoarse, and 
could think of no more oaths to utter, he turned to the 
one source of consolation : His principal prisoner was 
safe. The man for whom he had set forth upon his 
mission, and the only man that had been appointed for 
him to capture, was safe within his care. He would 
keep this one, and if the opportunity should ever come 
to him of putting his hand upon Pierre Lefranc or 
Martin Duval — on one, or on both — he would do it 
most cheerfully and most effectually. 

Toward mending the mishap of the night Simon 
put forth every endeavor that occurred to him, but not 
a trace of the fugitives could he find ; but he was able 
to guess pretty reliably what had become of them. 
The two brothers had so contrived it that they should 
cover with their watch the hours from midnight to 
four o’clock in the morning. The officer of the guard 
had originally arranged for Ernest to stand from two 
o’clock until four, and for Adolphe to follow him ; but 
the latter had professed that he had rather stand his 
two hours in the middle of the night, and sleep in the 
cool of the morning, so his comrade of the detail had 
gladly exchanged with him, expecting to have been 
called at four o’clock. The officer who should have 
looked to the calling of the relief had drank drugged 
wine, for he was awakened with difficulty after the 
escape was discovered, and his head was sadly shaken ; 
so when four o’clock came Ernest’s relief was not 
called, and as the sentinels in the count’s apartment, 
being doubled, had been left to call their own relief, 
the absence of the sleeping officer was not discovered. 

From all this it was evident that the flight had been 


the shadow oe the guillotine ! 


14 ? 


taken very shortly after midnight. The fugitives had 
selected four of the best horses, which they had proba- 
bly led away upon the soft sward beyond hearing dis- 
tance, and there could be no doubt that they had 
returned direct upon the road they had come. 

“ Be sure they made for the lugger,” said Simon, 
“ and very likely at this moment they are on board.” 

Still he sent two men back to investigate, giving 
them authority to summon a posse wherever and 
whenever they might need it — to summon in the name 
of the French Assembly, and if any man refused to 
obey, to take his name. 

Little fear that men would refuse their aid when so 
called. They could refuse if they would, but refusal 
meant death by the guillotine just as sure as their names 
were given to the Jacobin Prefect. 

Deducting the deserters and the twain sent back 
upon track of the fugitives, and Simon had yet a full 
score of lusty men, which was all-sufficient for his pur- 
pose. As soon as he had regained something of his 
wonted composure, and had seen the messengers off 
for the coast, he hurried up breakfast, taking the best 
of care that no possible effort should be overlooked by 
which the count’s bonds were to be held intact. 

It was after breakfast, and while de Liancourt stood 
in the hall next to the stable-yard, that a boy of the 
inn approached him with a clothes-brush in his hand. 
He was a bright-eyed little fellow, not more than 
eight years of age, and came up with a deferential 
flourish. 

“ If Monsieur le Comte will pardon me — there is 
dirt upon the skirt of his coat. Will he suffer me to 
remove it ?” 

Louis caught an expression in the bright eyes which 
had a deeper meaning than that of the clothes-brush, 


148 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


and with a simple nod and a smile he bade the boy pro- 
ceed with his brushing. 

The brush was plied dexterously, the lad humming 
a nursery ballad as he proceeded, and pretty soon, as 
he came in front of the count, where he could move 
his lips without being detected by the guards, he lifted 
his eyes, and whispered : 

“ In monsieur’s pocket — in the coat-skirt — I have put 
a paper !” 

The count nodded, and when the brushing had been 
completed he gave the boy a piece of silver. While 
they were bringing up the horses Louis muttered to 
himself of the breaking away of a button from the 
wristband of his shirt, and he turned to a corner win- 
dow to examine it. It was a safe corner, where he 
could do no possible harm, and his guards did not 
trouble themselves further than to see that he went 
not away. At a favorable moment he opened the 
paper and cast his eyes upon it. There was writing, 
in Martin’s hand, and in English, as follows : 

“My Master : The opportunity is mine, but not yours. I 
need not tell you why it is utterly impossible for us to make a 
move in your direction. We shall be off shortly after midnight, 
and make for Lefranc’s lugger. Until I see you free, and while 
I live, I will not have a leading thought that is not of your deliv- 
erance. And be sure I shall find friends. If my escape is a suc- 
cess, I shall very soon be upon your track, and then you may be 
watchful, for, be Louis de Liancourt where he may, very near to 
that place will be Martin.” 

The count crumpled the paper, and put it into his 
mouth, and then he attended to his button. 

The distance from Agincourt to Arras was but little 
more than ten leagues, so there was no need of haste. 
As the cavalcade rode out from the village, and were 
winding around the foot of the eminence upon which 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE ! 


149 


stood the castle, Simon of Werwood rode up by his 
prisoner’s side. He had caught some of the words 
which had been spoken on the previous evening concern- 
ing the great battle which had once been fought near 
that place, and he was curious to know more about it. 

“ Citizen de Liancourt,” he said, with something in 
his manner very much like respect, “ I have heard a 
great deal about the battle of Agincourt, and am hardly 
willing to believe the story told in the old accounts. 
If you know about it, I wish you would tell me.” 

“ With pleasure,” answered the count ; and he spoke 
sincerely, for he felt that any favor thus rendered to the 
chief of his captors would result in making his term of 
captivity under Simon’s immediate care less severe. 

And then he went on with the story, assuring his 
hearer that it was true in every particular ; and, as he 
spoke, others of the troop drew near, and Louis raised 
his voice so that all might hear. It is not our province 
to follow the narrator in his thrilling, vivid account of 
the battle. The salient points he presented were these : 

In October, of the year 1415, Henry V. of England, 
with an army consisting of thirteen thousand foot- 
soldiers, of all arms, and two thousand horse, invaded 
France. That little army was harassed in every pos- 
sible way, the country through which they passed 
being stripped of provisions before they came up, the 
bridges torn down, and the fords obstructed. At 
Agincourt this mere handful of men, almost famished, 
and worn with ceaseless toil, was met by one of the 
most magnificent armies France ever sent into the field. 
Of belted knights and esquires, all used to arms, and 
most of them veterans, there were very nearly as many 
in number as there were men of the English all told. 
During almost the whole of the night preceding the 
battle the French were gathered around their camp- 


150 


THE SHADOW OE THE GUILLOTINE, 


fires, drinking and carousing, and making merry ill 
every way, being fully assured that they had but to go 
forth in the morning and ride the presumptuous adven- 
turers down at pleasure. The sorry condition of the 
English was, with them, a subject of ribald jest, for 
their scouts came in, ever and anon, with report that 
the enemy had nothing to eat or drink, and that those 
who were not at work upon their arms, or asleep, were 
upon their knees praying. It was a fact that when the 
events which led to this battle were in course of de- 
velopment, Henry of England was looking for a way 
of escape out of the country. He was driven to battle 
against his desire ; but when the need came, and the 
French herald appeared with a haughty summons from 
the monarch of France, he flung back defiance, and 
prepared for battle. 

Greater disparity between the two contending forces 
could hardly be conceived. It is not unfair to say that 
the French were to the English as six to one. In 
direct, absolute numbers, counting every living biped 
as a soldier, the French were five to one ; and when 
we consider the other circumstances — every possible 
circumstance, in fact, which can rest in and around a 
host for sustaining and inspiring — when all this is 
considered, it would appear that the host of France had 
but to ride forth and trample the insignificant invader 
to death and destruction by mere weight of numbers 
and material. And really, this is what the army of 
France expected to do on that St. Crispin’s morning ; 
and this very confidence, so impudent and so overween- 
ing, was the first great mistake. The main part of the 
English army occupied a gentle slope, along the foot of 
which ran a straggling hedge. Under cover of this 
hedge they built or set up a cheval de frise of iron-shod 
and iron-pointed stakes in such a manner that no pos- 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE ! 


151 


sible force of cavalry could pass it. Extending before 
this slope, and spreading over many acres, was a soft, 
miry meadow or marsh, into the treacherous bosom of 
which the French horses sank to their knees, and in 
some places to their haunches^ 

On rushed the French, pell-mell, to be broken at the 
very first charge, for the cumbersome mass advanced 
more like a mob than like a body of trained soldiers, 
evidently expecting to see the enemy flee before them 
like frightened sheep. 

In the end that extensive bog became the scene of a 
horror that baffles description. Men and horses went 
down in inextricable confusion, the dead, the dying,, 
the wounded, and the fainting being trampled alike by 
the madly flying squadrons, for the mire had become a 
solid pass, pontooned with human bodies. Confusion 
worse confounded fell upon the French at every point, 
and in a few short hours the proud host, which had 
advanced in grand and confident array, resplendent in 
heraldic pomp and chivalric glory, was a broken and 
shattered mass, its best part laid low in death. The 
nobles and the knights had done the fighting on that 
side, for upon the field, when they gathered up the 
dead for burial, were found a hundred and twenty-five 
princes of the blood and high nobles, with eight thou- 
sand and four hundred knights and gentlemen of rank, 
while of the lower ranks there had fallen only sixteen 
hundred ! That showed how terror and confusion had 
reigned among the common soldiers, and how the 
prouder men of distinction had borne the brunt of 
the contest. 

Simon of Werwood listened to the recital with deep 
interest, and, at its conclusion, he vouchsafed the 
opinion that when the Republic of France had be- 
come firmly established, and the leaders of public 


152 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


affairs were of the people’s own choosing, France 
would be a nation invincible. 

A stop for rest and refreshment was made at St. Pol, 
and while the sun was yet an hour high the cavalcade 
reached Arras, and proceeded direct to the office of the 
mayor. Gideon de Bar came forth, and, when he saw 
the count, a look of malignant triumph beamed upon 
his coarse face ; but he did not then address the prisoner. 
He sent for his son, who held the office of intendent of 
police, and consigned the charge to him. 

Gaston de Bar was not so large as his father, but he 
was cast in a similar mold, and was compact and 
muscular — a medium-sized man, with low and lowering 
brow, features sensual and wolfish, hair coarse and 
black, and eyes like the eyes of a toad. 

“You know your man, my son,” said the mayor, “ and 
you will post your guards accordingly.” 

“ Leave him to me,” was the intendent’s reply. “ He 
will not escape !” 

Simon of Werwood was dismissed, and the intendent’s 
own guard took their prisoner away. It was a strong, 
dark prison, and Louis de Liancourt was consigned to 
one of the strongest and darkest dungeons. The sun 
had been shining in the western sky when the count 
passed out from the sight of earthly things, but no 
light of the sun penetrated to that abode wherein he 
had been lodged. The iron door was closed, shutting 
out the last beam of the turnkey’s torch, and total 
darkness reigned. 

Louis found the low pallet, and sat down upon it, and 
with his head bent upon his hand he gave himself up 
to thought. What should be the end ? 

Ah, what? He had heard it spoken on the way — it 
had been flung at him with coarse, malevolent spite — 
and he saw no way of escape from it — the guillotine J 



CHAPTER XIII. 

“ HEAVEN HAVE MERCY!” 

It had been on the night of Tuesday and the morn- 
ing of Wednesday that the marquis and Ninon had 
attempted to make their escape with Louis. We left 
them as Gideon de Bar and his force had arrested them 
on their way, and it will be remembered that the mar- 
quis had surrendered to the man whom he dared not 
arouse to vengeful wrath. De Bar, on that occasion 
promised d’ Artois that he should return in safety to 
his chateau , and the promise was kept. While a part 
of the force went on in pursuit of Louis de Liancourt, 
the rest conducted the marquis and his household back 
to St. Jean, where the mayor stopped for the purpose 
of coming to an understanding with regard to the 
business that rested between them. 

And we may here understand the prime considera- 
tion which influenced Gideon de Bar in forcing the 
union between Ninon and his son. The estates of 
Artois and St. Omer were by far the most valuable in 
the department, and if they were once confiscated by 
the Assembly the property would be lost 'to him be- 
yond his power to regain it ; but if his son were the 
husband of the apparent heiress there would be no 

[ 153 ] 


154 : THE SHADOW OF. THE GUILLOTINE. 

danger of confiscation. So, in addition to the wealth 
which Ninon would bring in her own right to her hus- 
band, De Bar looked to see the whole vast estates of 
the marquisate and the barony come in time to his 
family if this marriage was consummated. 

He put the case a little differently to the marquis, 
however, as we shall see. 

Without regard to the hour, and with no care for Sir 
Philip’s fatigue and chagrin, De Bar demanded an 
audience, as soon as they reached the chdteau. Ninon, 
with her attendant, was suffered to go to her own 
apartments, after which the marquis and mayor re- 
paired to the library, where wine and refreshments were 
served. 

Philip d’ Artois was certainly to be pitied. It was a 
terrible ordeal in which his life was being passed, for 
it might be truly said that there was no relief to his 
painful and wearing anxiety. This hard, unrelenting, 
cruel man held him in a grasp which was like a death- 
clamp. Though the yoke galled beyond measure, yet 
a movement to escape would be fatal. And yet, had 
France been quiet, had the king been firm upon his 
throne, and the nobles of the realm, who were worthy, 
strong in their places and possessions, the marquis 
might have braved the vampire, and dared him do 
his worst. Feeling in his own heart that he was inno- 
cent — knowing that he had never wittingly committed 
a crime — and being well assured that even his would- 
be accuser knew him to be innocent — he would have 
acknowledged the deed done in the forest against Juan 
de St. Denis, and thrown himself upon the judgment 
of the court, hoping to convince them that in all he had 
done on that melancholy occasion he had but acted in 
self-defense. 

But he dared not do it now. In the present situation 


“heaven have mercy!” 


155 


of national affairs, the simple announcement that his 
was the hand that had taken the life of St. Denis would 
have been his death-warrant. In the hearts of the 
people the memory of Juan de St. Denis had been 
treasured by the side of that of Robert Francois 
Damiens. In those days of deadly hatred of royalty 
the man who had attempted to assassinate Louis XV. 
was sainted by the mob. The story of Robert le Dia- 
ble's martyrdom, as it was termed by the Sans Culottes , 
was told in the wine-shops and upon the street-corners, 
and the name of Juan de St. Denis was often spoken 
in connection. It was known that he had been slain in 
the forest, and that the martyr Damiens had been his 
grand-uncle ; and how easy it was to imagine that the 
colonel had been killed because he was a relation of 
the regicide. 

So the marquis dared not brave the situation which 
must follow a revealment of the deed of blood. He 
was not as strong as he had once been. He had often 
told himself that if he were ever pushed, he would 
arise in the majesty of his manhood and speak out. But 
he had not yet arisen. 

How many a man is seen surely on the road to the 
inebriate’s estate of misery, want and shame, who will 
tell you that he shall put the tempter behind him if he 
finds himself in danger. Poor man ! He does not 
know that every additional draught of the liquid fire 
does only so much toward disarming him of the very 
strength of will which is necessary to his self-preserva- 
tion ; so that when finally, in the great need, the power 
of self-denial is summoned to the rescue, lo and behold 
— the power is dead and gone ! 

Just so it was with Philip d’Artois. The years of 
bondage — the position of serf — the constant smothering 
and putting away out of sight of his own manly spirit, 


156 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


had so far unmanned him that when he would now call 
up the peer of France to the contest, no peer was 
found, but in his place a poor, broken, sorrow-stricken 
man who had served a master too long to declare his 
independence while that master was alive and com- 
manding. 

We can now see the marquis as he stood before 
Gideon de Bar in the library, after the return from the 
short jaunt toward the coast. Gideon waved the old 
noble to a seat, and then, with a bottle and glasses 
between them, he sat down himself. 

“ My dear Philip,” he said, resting his right hand 
upon the table, with the forefinger pressed upon the 
board as though the objective point were there pinned 
down for consideration, “ since the events of this night 
it is necessary that you and I come to an understand- 
ing. You will see that I have already suspected you. 
Had my faith in your honor been unshaken, my spies 
would not have been lurking near the chateau. And 
henceforth, monseigneur, you will take no steps beyond 
your own walls unknown to me. In fact, my dear mar- 
quis, you shall be wholly on your guard, so that the 
occasion of another shameful failure shall not occur, I 
have ventured to put men of my own upon your force 
of servitors. Do not take it unkindly, for I mean it for 
your ultimate good. And now, sir, having seen all 
this I want your solemn promise that you will not 
again seek to throw any impediment in the way of a 
union by marriage between the Lady Ninon and my 
son. When I am ready for the final act and scene, I 
wish the work completed. Can I have your prom- 
ise ?” 

The marquis started to present the painful situation 
which Gaston would occupy in wedding with one who 
never could love him ; but the mayor cut him short 


HEAVEN HAVE MERCY !” 


157 


with an oath. The painful situation if she would not 
love would be Ninon’s. 

“ Look to it, monseigneur, that you do not encourage 
her in her obstinacy. And now let that pass. Consider 
it settled. Gaston will be prepared to treat his wife as 
she shall give him occasion. So we have only the one 
final settlement of preliminaries to make. Here is the 
dying confession and accusation of Juan de Saint Denis ! 
I show it to you for the last time. The next time I 
take it from its secure place of hiding, it will be either 
to give it into your hands forever or to give it into the 
hands of our minister of justice ! Take one look at it, 
Philip d’Artois, and remember the dark and bloody 
hour in which it came into my possession !” 

“ Gideon de Bar !” almost shrieked the marquis, in 
his despairing energy, “ you know I was not guilty ! 
You_know — ” 

The vampire stopped him with a stamp of the foot 
upon the floor, and a smiting of his fist upon the table. 

“ Why do. you prate of that again ? If you think 
you will try the experiment, I will withdraw and give 
you every opportunity. You shall explain to the 
minister to-morrow ! You shall not be delayed. I 
have borne enough. I see plainly that I am to have 
no rest. Nothing is to remain settled. I am to be 
harassed continually. I shall endure it no longer. Go 
your way, Philip d’Artois, and when you find your bed 
hard to lie upon, do not say I made it for you. You 
had better sleep to-night, for you know not when you 
may sleep again !” 

With this, spoken in tones that were stern, hard and 
malignant, Gideon de Bar took up his hat and made a 
low bow, and then turned and strode toward the door. 

Once again was the broken man’s fabric of pride 
and hope demolished, and his brief essay of power at 


158 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


an end. With a wailing cry he sprang forward and 
caught De Bar by the arm, and begged of him that he 
would not go. 

Such a glow as might have come upon the face of 
Mephistopheles when his sorely tempted victim acknowl- 
edged his power came upon the face of Gideon de Bar 
as he turned back into the library and resumed his 
seat. He had conquered, and his victim was at his 
feet. He had now but to make known his will and 
dictate his terms ; and when, half an hour later, he 
called his attendants together for departure, it had 
been arranged that the marriage between Gaston and 
Ninon should take place immediately upon the return 
of the father and son from Paris, whither they were 
going to attend at the Palais de Justice. The marquis 
had ventured to ask concerning Louis de Liancourt. At 
the mention of his mission to the court his heart had 
sunk still lower with the thought that his brave young 
friend, who had been as a son to him in these later 
years, might be going to his trial, and that these men 
were going as witnesses against him. The end he 
could not doubt. 

But Gideon gave him a very brief and comprehensive 
answer — an answer that left room for no more ques- 
tion in the same direction. Thus it was : 

“ If monseigneur is wise, he will not borrow trouble 
in considering the fate of Louis de Liancourt ; he will 
only think of his own condition, and thank the good for- 
tune which has shielded him, and the power which can 
hold him harmless while he keeps faith with his true 
friends.” 

It was well on toward the dawning of another day 
when the Mayor of Arras and his attendants rode away, 
and when the marquis was left alone, and had heard 
the last of the departing cavalcade, he sank down into 


“ HEAVEN HAVE MERCY !*’ 159 

his seat and clasped his hands over his brow ; but he 
could not think. He could only murmur the name of 
the gentle being whom he had that night doomed to 
lifelong woe and wretchedness, and cry out to God for 
mercy. He finally started up from his chair, like one 
suddenly aroused from a frightful dream and staggered 
to the sideboard. He poured out a measure of wine 
and drank it, and was upon the point of taking up a 
candle to light him to his chamber, when his lieutenant, 
Marius, entered. The officer was breathing hard, like 
one who had been battling with deep emotion. 

“ My lord, was^ it with your consent that Gideon de 
Bar left ten of his Jacobin troopers to be quartered 
here ?” 

“ Ha ! Ten of them, did you say ?” 

“Yes, my lord. Ten uncouth fellows, who swear 
that they are here on duty.” 

A happy thought struck the harassed noble. 

“ Good Marius,” he said, as though putting forth all 
his power of self-control, “ I doubt if you can realize 
the full danger that surrounds us on every hand. The 
mob have imprisoned the king, and every noble of 
France whose estate is worth confiscating is marked 
out for arrest and trial ; and trial means death ! I 
know that the evil eye is upon me. Gideon de Bar is 
not my friend — oh, he is far from it. But I would 
rather it should be he for an enemy than one over whom 
I could wield no influence. I can influence him. If he 
were to withdraw we know not who might come in his 
place — perhaps a cutthroat of the mob, who would 
have no shadow of mercy. Yes, Marius, I have con- 
sented to the stopping of those men. I could not help 
it. You know who and what they are, and the power 
that is behind them. Do not provoke them. Any false 
step might result in evil to me.” 


160 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


The lieutenant hesitated, and was for a little time ill 
at ease, but at length, with an effort, he said : 

“ My lord, I can hardly satisfy our people with the 
information you have vouchsafed. They know what 
is taking place in France. Heavens ! What things to 
know of one’s own country ! It is known in the court, 
in the barracks and in the stables, how whole families 
and even whole hamlets have been swept off like so 
many hives of wealthy bees whose honey the husband- 
man covets. Our people ask me why these men are 
here. They ask me why their lord is stopped upon the 
highway by Gideon de Bar, and turned back from his 
purpose as though he were a nobody. They ask — is 
there danger in which they must share ? My lord, you 
can understand their anxiety. What can I tell them ? 
How can I explain to them the meaning of what they 
see ?” 

At first the marquis had been inclined to be angry 
at this seeming meddling of his servants, but he 
thought better of it as he reflected, and finally he 
resolved to tell as near to the truth as he had the cour- 
age. He could stretch the truth a very little more 
easily than he could confess his own shame and sorrow. 

“ Marius, I will confess to you the truth, and you 
may tell to our people just as much, or just as little, as 
you please. In my political record there is a chapter 
which, if brought to light, would consign me to the 
guillotine beyond the power of earthly influence to 
save me. The chapter is one that I, thank God, am 
not ashamed of, but the Sans Culottes "would find trea- 
son to the republic in it instanter. This thing Gideon 
de Bar knows. In short, that man thus holds a secret 
of my life, the revealment of which would be death to 
me. He uses his knowledge as a means to his own 
aggrandizement. It was in that way he commanded 


HEAVEN HAVE MERCY !” 


161 


my influence to help him to the office he now holds. 
And now he seeks to obtain from me a portion of my 
wealth. Do you not see his power ? If he were so 
disposed, he could strip me of every centime, and I 
could not help myself. If I flee from the country, my 
property may be confiscated by the government, and 
then De Bar would lose the golden egg. It is hard, 
Marius — very hard ; but I can better afford to bear up 
under De Bar’s grasping tyranny than I can to tempt 
the Jacobin court. My people have nothing to fear. 
It is for De Bar’s interest that all should go well here, 
for only so long as the estate is intact can he hope to 
profit by his knowledge of my secret. 

“ There, my friend, I have been frank with you. 
Now go, and tell our people what you think proper and 
best ; and as for the Jacobins quartered upon us, let 
them alone — that is all. Let them alone L 

The officer, with show of heartfelt sympathy, 
thanked his lord for his frankness, and promised to do 
all in his power to preserve peace and harmony in the 
courts and offices of the castle. 

As soon as Marius^ had gone, the marquis took up 
his candle and went to his chamber. He sought his 
pillow, but not to sleep. The thoughts that crowded 
upon his mind brought pictures and reflections that 
were harrowing and agonizing. First, he thought of 
the mission of Gideon de Bar and his son to Paris. 
Oh, too well did he know why they went ! He saw 
Louis de Liancourt in a close dungeon ; saw him 
dragged forth to a mere outward form of trial ; and 
then saw him in the horrible cart, with a white-faced, 
death-marked crew, trundled away to the guillotine ! 

From this picture he turned away only to see Ninon 
in her agony. We know that which Ninon did not yet 
know — that she was not the child of the marquis ; yet, 


1G2 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


had such a thing as comparison of the paternal relation 
by blood been possible, and had Ninon been a thou- 
sand times his child, he could not have loved her better 
than he did. Really, she was all that he had left on 
earth to love, and, from the very first, she had been held 
close in his heart of heart. It had so happened that 
the first time he ever saw the child — when she was but 
an infant in the arms of her nurse — she had put out her 
little dimpled hands to him, and laughed and prattled 
upon his knee. In that hour his heart went out to her 
with its whole wealth of love ; she had come to fill a 
void that had been dark and dismal, and as she filled 
it completely she had filled and possessed the heart of 
a father. 

Then how could he contemplate the fate that awaited 
her? How should he break to her the terrible truth ? 
He knew that she had given plight to Louis de Lian- 
court, and that she loved him with all her soul. Would 
not her heart break under the blow of the separation ? 
But that was not all. Separation from the true, the 
gallant and the brave — the Christian knight and noble 
gentleman — to be wed to — what ? He groaned in 
fierce agony, and tried to forget. 

The morning dawned, and the marquis arose, unre- 
freshed by sleep. He bathed his fevered brow, and 
dressed without calling assistance. As he went forth 
into the court he saw two strangers walking together 
toward the barbican. His first impulse was to hail 
them, and demand to know who they were, and why 
they were there ; but the truth came to him as soon as 
he had time for reflection. They were of the Jacobin 
squad which the Mayor of Arras had left, and very 
likely they were now on duty as spies. It was not a 
pleasant circumstance, nor was the scene inspiring, and 
as quickly as possible he got away from it. 


“heaven have mercy!” 


163 


Without appearing to have noticed the two men, Sir 
Philip pursued his way around the keep, and entered 
the flower-garden in the rear, where he was soon joined 
by Ninon. She had seen him first from her window, and 
had made all haste to speak with him. Her toilet had 
been thorough — the work of Blanchette — but her face 
was pale, and her eyes bore signs of weeping. 

“ Oh, papa !” she cried, grasping his arm, and cling- 
ing to him convulsively, “ what terrible things have 
come to pass !” 

“ My dear child,” he said, bending and kissing her 
upon the brow, “ I fear you have not slept. You should 
have sought longer rest.” 

“ Oh,” she exclaimed, clinging to him with renewed 
energy of woe, “ I could not sleep ; I dared not close 
my eyes ! Oh, such dreadful dreams ! I never, in all 
my life, dreamed such dreams before ! They were 
more horrible than I can tell. I cried out in sharp 
agony many times, so that Blanchette was frightened.” 

“ Poor child ! I am sorry you have suffered ; but 
be not utterly cast down. We know that Louis has 
escaped.” 

A glad cry broke from the maiden’s lips. 

“ Papa ! Papa ! Oh, do you know ?” 

“ I know this much, Ninon : Not one of the bullets' 
that were fired at him hit him. His horse was far 
superior to any that went in pursuit, and he had a good 
start in advance. Martin Duval escaped also, and I 
know that they had an understanding concerning the 
place where they would meet. Yes, I feel that I can 
give you sweet assurance that Louis is safe.” 

“ Oh, thank God !” She reached up and kissed him, 
and then, in the exuberance of her gratitude, she 
added : “ Dear papa, you are so worn and so weary, 
and the subject is so painful, that I will not harass you 


164 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


with questions now. We are alive and unharmed, and 
Louis is safe ! Oh, Heaven be praised for so much 
good ! When you are rested you must tell me of that 
dark, wicked man who forced us to come back. I 
suppose he came out on purpose after Louis ?” 

“Yes, yes — oh, yes !” cried Philip d’ Artois, eagerly. 
“ And of course we could not go on without Louis.” 

“ Of course not. Poor Louis ! So good, and true, 
and noble, and loyal, and so brave and generous. But 
he is free. Oh, we will find him some time, will we not, 
papa ?” 

“ I should be very sorry indeed, my child, if I could 
think otherwise.” 

And with this he suffered the deluded girl to depart 
from him. He could not tell her the whole truth until 
he was forced to it. He had not the heart — he had not 
the courage. His tongue was paralyzed, and clung to 
the roof of his mouth at the thought. 

He stood and watched her as she went toward the 
keep, and as she disappeared a pent-up groan burst 
from his bosom. 

“Alas, poor Ninon, Heaven have mercy upon thee !” 



CHAPTER XIV. 


A CLOSE CARRIAGE. 

Among the reforms introduced into France by the 
Assembly in the morning of its power, when something 
like patriotism ruled in the councils of the nation, was 
the abolishment of the system of issuing the famous, 
or infamous, lettres de cachet. During the reign of 
Louis XV. an abandoned, shameless woman,* from the 
lower walks of life, who by her great personal beauty 
captivated the king, and held him her slave for twenty 
years, received thousands of these lettres every year, 
so that, by a .simple stroke of her pen across the blank 
space in the terrible missive, she could consign to the 
dungeons of the Bastile whomsoever she pleased. These 
lettres were simply blank warrants signed by the king, 
commanding the arrest and imprisonment of the 
person whose name might afterward be filled in by the 
recipient. During his reign Louis XV. gave away one 
hundred and fifty thousand of these terrible missives, 

* Jeannette Poisson, 'created by the king— and so best kuown— Mar- 
chioness de Pompadour. 

r i6 S ] 


166 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


most of them to favorites and courtiers for purposes of 
private spite and vengeance. 

Can we wonder that the French people had grown 
restive under such glaring and wicked cruelty of 
tyrranny in high places ? 

The Assembly had abolished the lettre de cachet , 
thereby winning the gratitude of humanity everywhere, 
but when the revolutionary spirits of that Assembly 
had gained the power so to do, they introduced a sys- 
tem fully as bad, and far more fatal while it endured. 
Persons irresponsible could no longer fill up a lettre 
de cachet against an enemy, but they could, by a mere 
breath of suspicion — by a whisper — consign the best 
and the purest of the people to the prison and the guil- 
lotine. Let a man identified with the Jacobin Club 
point his finger at an enemy, and that enemy was sure 
to fall. 

During that month of August, of which we are 
writing, Paris was as a seething 'pandemonium. Men, 
women and children, who had been known as friendly 
Jo the king, or as belonging to families sympathizing 
with the king, were denounced to the commissioners 
of justice, and ordered to be arrested and cast into 
prison. The frightened creatures tried in every possi- 
ble way to escape, but only a very few succeeded. The 
allied army of Austria and Prussia was advancing 
toward Paris in behalf of the monarchy, and the Jaco- 
bins were rampant. A list of all those who were sus- 
pected of being unfriendly to the revolution was made 
out, and their arrest ordered. In the search for these 
suspected citizens chimneys were smoked out, cellars 
ransacked, closets and presses turned inside out, and 
every wall was sopjided to prove whether it were hol- 
low and fit for hiding purposes. In one night of that 
month, five thousand suspected persons in the capital 


A CLOSE CARRIAGE. 


167 


were torn from their homes and dragged away to the 
already crowded prisons. 

The guillotine was busy night and day. Blood liter- 
ally flowed in streams. To the prison at night — to the 
court of trial on the morrow — and then away in the 
reeking tumbrel. Had a man or a woman, or even a 
tender child, been heard to express sympathy for the 
king, death was as sure as fate. Nor did the killers 
always wait for condemnation. Hundreds in a single 
night were butchered upon mere suspicion, and the 
assembly sought not to stay the gory flood. Even the 
begging of mercy for a doomed friend was deemed a 
crime against the revolution, and there were wives and 
children and sisters actually condemned to the guillo- 
tine because they had dared to plead in behalf of hus- 
band, parent or brother. 

The king and the queen were prisoners in the tem- 
ple ; Ea Fayette, for having dared oppose the fatal 
assumptions of the Jacobin triumvirate, had been 
forced to flee from his country, and was now in an 
Austrian prison ; and even the liberal and liberty- 
loving Girondists, who were in deed and in truth sus- 
tained of the true republic, were doomed to the 
guillotine because they would not bow the knee to the 
demon of anarchy and slaughter. 

We spoke of the triumvirate. There were three men 
in whose hands, for the time, were the destinies of 
France. They were the responsible rulers. Marat, 
Danton and Robespierre. 

Marat was President of the Jacobin Club, and under 
the soothing influence of the bath, while sitting in the 
tub, he wrote down the names of fresh victims for the 
slaughter. He was thus engaged when the avenging 
steel of Charlotte Corday reached 'his heart. Danton 
was* Minister of Justice, from whose fiat of condemna- 


168 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


tion there was no appeal ; while Robespierre, ever 
active, ever restless, eager and aspiring, was as the 
leaven of the Revolutionary mass, imparting his own 
spirit of dire destruction to everything he touched. 
He wanted no office ; he would take none ; he only 
wanted to tear down and drag from the light of day 
everything appertaining to the old system of govern- 
ment. The building of anything new in its place he 
never proposed. If it be asked what was Robespierre’s 
real position during the darkest days of the Terror, it 
might be truthfully answered, that for a time — for the 
time that saw the devoted and liberty-loving Girondists 
consigned to the guillotine — he was Dictator ! And 
that was the power at which he aimed. 

Such was the condition of affairs when Louis de 
Liancourt was cast into the prison of Arras. He re- 
mained there a day and a night, and on the morning 
of the second day he was taken there before a tribunal, 
over which the mayor presided, with the officers of the 
police in attendance, where he found a score of other 
prisoners arraigned. The place was literally reeking. 
It was a large, vaulted hall, with a rough stone pave- 
ment, walls unhewn, and windows barred with iron. 
In the center, and extending to a raised platform 
against the rear wall, was a space divided off by a rail- 
ing of iron, within which was the court, while outside 
were assembled the scum and scourings of the gutters, 
as they had been day after day, until the air was loaded 
with a stench that was dreadful. Poor, sunken, de- 
graded creatures, steeped in vice and crime, and never 
known to work when they could steal — they were safe 
to go where they pleased. Justice had nothing to de- 
mand of them. What an arra)^ of faces was that upon 
which our hero gazed as he looked over the crowd ! 
Bloated and coarse and scarred, eyes bleared and blood- 


A CLOSE CARRIAGE. 


1G9 


shot, literally and truly Sans Culottes , gathered there to 
witness the trial and condemnation of the victims of 
the Revolution, and shouting with joy and satisfaction 
as name after name was read off for the fate of the 
guillotine. 

Notwithstanding the horror of the situation, with 
death at his side waiting only the signal to strike, 
Louis^ could not help philosophizing upon what he saw. 
What was it in human nature that could plant in the 
bosoms of those poor, joyless, plague-stricken creatures 
such desire for the death of their fellows ? Really it 
seemed as though they only regarded the ghastly work 
of the headsman as an exhibition for their entertain- 
ment, and when — though it seldom happened — a pris- 
onor was ^set free, these miserable creatures cursed 
and swore as though they had been robbed of a rightful 
pleasure. And yet these very men and women would 
quickly and cheerfully put forth any exertion of labor 
or deprivation to help a dog that was in suffering. 
How could it be explained ? 

He was aroused from his reflections by the calling 
of his name, and a murmur of expectation ran through 
the unwashed crowd as the title of the aristocrat fell 
upon their ears ; for the mayor, with a malevolent 
chuckle, and in a sneering manner, after he had read 
the name of the citizen, superadded the titles by which 
he had been known. 

Louis de Liancourt arose to this feet and slightly 
inclined his head. 

The mayor pronounced his name again, and then 
went on : 

“ By orders from the Department of Justice, I am 
directed to deliver you into the hands of the commis- 
sioners appointed to take you in charge. Messieurs,” 
he added, turning to two officers who stood near him, 


170 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


habited in the garb of the National Guard, “behold 
your prisoner. To you I now deliver him, and hence- 
forth you will be answerable.” 

The two officers thus addressed simply nodded in 
response to the presiding functionary, and then 
advanced and took the count by the arms. He was 
upon the point of demanding to know what was meant 
by this proceeding, when he was saved the trouble by 
a stout, heavily-bearded Jacobin, wearing the red cap, 
with the garb of a butcher, who pressed forward to the 
iron rail, and shouted above the murmurs of the 
multitude : 

“ How, now, Monsieur le Maire ! What do}nDU with 
the aristocrat whose hands are red with the blood of 
our brothers ? Where are Gabriel and Raoul ? Shall 
they not be avenged ?” 

“ Indeed they shall,” answered the mayor. 

“Aye — but how? Why do you give him to the Na- 
tional Guard ? They go to Paris. Have we not a 
guillotine in Arras ? And will it not make sure 
work ?” 

And then another cried out ; and then another. 
They demanded that the aristocrat should be tried 
then and there ; and Louis de Liancourt felt a sadness 
and a sinking of the heart such as he had never felt 
before. What had he ever done to those men, or 
against them, that they should thus seek his life ? Had 
not the lords of Liancourt always been kind and gener- 
ous, and sought in every way to bless the poor and the 
needy of the people ? And this was his reward! What 
had he done? As to the death of the men whose 
names had been mentioned, he doubted if half a dozen 
of those who cried out against him had ever known 
them. 

“ Death to the aristocrat !” was the cry ; and the 


A CLOSE CARRIAGE. 


m 


mob pressed forward until it seemed as though they 
meant to take the administration of justice into their 
own hands. 

With all his might the mayor commanded silence, 
and at length he succeeded in persuading the excited 
mass to listen. 

“Fellow-citizens,” he said, from his high rostrum, 
“ justice shall be done. The offenses of this man have 
been great, and the minister demands that he shall be 
sent to Paris for trial. Will you not trust Danton ? 
Will you not trust Marat ?” 

At the mention of those two names the tide 
turned. 

“Yes, we will trust Marat !” shouted the butcher. 

“ And you may trust me also,” added Gideon de Bar, 
with a grandiloquent flourish. “ I shall accompany 
the prisoner ; and be sure he shall not escape.” 

Without waiting for a counter current in the tide of 
popular feeling, the two guardsmen led their prisoner 
out by a rear way, and conducted him back to prison. 
One of these officers appeared to be a gentleman, 
though stern and unrelenting in the performance of 
his duty, and him, after they had gained the dungeon, 
the count ventured to address : 

“ Monsieur le Capitalize , may I ask you what is to be 
done with me ?” 

“ Did you not hear ? The mayor spoke plainly.” 

“ He quelled the mob, I know. Is it to be done as 
he said ? Has Danton ordered my appearance before 
the court in Paris ?” 

“ Not yours particularly, monsieur, but yours with 
the rest of those who have borne titles, or have been 
in authority. It is the act of the Assembly that all 
such shall be tried in Paris, unless a commission shall 
be appointed to try them where they are ; and under 


172 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

that act the Minister of Justice has sent us to Arras to 
conduct monsieur to the capital.” 

“ And is Gideon de Bar to bear me company ?” 

“ Does monsieur speak of the mayor ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Certainly. He is to bear witness against you. He 
spoke truly in that.” 

They had entered the dungeon, and the second 
guardsman had stepped back, when the captain, with 
a slight change of tone, as though a grain of sympathy 
had found its way to his heart, said : 

“ Citizen Louis, if you have allowed a thought of es- 
cape to rest in your mind, you had better put it away. 
You are going on a road from which none ever return. 
Your fate is written. The hours that are left to you 
had better be devoted to such things as belong to the 
closing scene of life. If you have a stout heart, you 
will need all its strength. If your heart is weak, you 
will be miserable.” 

“ When shall we start on our way ?” 

“ Ah, you may thank the mayor for his care in this 
respect. We shall not set forth until the day is gone. 
He fears that the excited mob might lay violent hands 
upon you. Do you know what that means ? Do you 
know how the mob treats its victims ?” 

The prisoner’s answer was a groan, and without 
further question he suffered the officer to depart, and 
close upon him once more the heavy iron door. 

Alone with himself ! Alas, it was a melancholy 
companionship ! It is doubtful if he could have been left 
in the society of one who in that hour was more utterly 
joyless, hopeless and wretched than was the Count Louis 
of Liancourt and la Capelle. And his most biting 
agony — that which unnerved and prostrated him — was 
from thoughts of Ninon. No amount of danger to 


A CLOSE CARRIAGE. 


173 


himself, no heaping up of mere physical disabilities or 
pains, could have so moved him. In his heart of steel 
true, loyal and brave, there was manliness enough and 
faith enough to bear him triumphantly through ordeals 
that the unlettered savage endures without flinching ; 
the agony that rended his soul was from the fount of a 
sentiment that the savage does not possess — that power 
of loving another better than self, and suffering in the 
affliction of another to a degree which no affliction of 
self could produce. 

That death was to be his portion Louis could not for 
a moment doubt. Aye — had he stood upon the gory 
platform, w T ith the hand of the headsman upon his arm, 
he could not have felt his fate more sure. Of course, 
it was not utterly impossible that something now not 
seen — something trivial and seemingly insignificant in 
itself — might transpire to set him free. But it must be 
accident ; it could be nothing in regular course of pro- 
cedure by the court. 

For himself alone he could find hope — the one 
blessed hope ever within the reach of true Christian 
faith. Let death come as it might, so long as his own 
hands were clean, it could be but the falling asleep of 
the worn and weary spirit — the sweet rest of the never- 
ending. 

But, alas, for the loved one ! Oh, it was thought of 
Ninon that gave him bitterest agony. There he could 
find no hope. She had promised that she would be 
true to him — that she would never give her hand to 
another — that she was his, now and forever ; but what 
power had she over her fate ? He called to mind the 
story which the marquis had told to him — the story of 
the death in the forest ; of Gideon de Bar’s fatal 
possession ; and of the dear girl’s true parentage ; and 
when this was before him, with all its possible bearings 


174 THE SHADOW OE THE GUILLOTINE. 

and influences impressed upon him, what ground of 
self-protection had Ninon to stand upon ? He knew 
that De Bar had resolved upon his course, and that the 
marriage of Ninon with his son was the prime move ; 
and now, as matters stood, what was to prevent him 
from the accomplishment of his purpose ? 

Had Philip d’ Artois been a stronger man — more 
morally brave and fixed — there might have been a 
possible wielding of saving power by him ; but he was 
weak and unstable, and the strength of the soul that 
might once have been his had been long since broken 
under the iron heel of the dread secret possessed by 
the enemy. 

“Alas, poor Ninon!” The words burst from his 
lips in tones of agony, for the whole field of thought 
had been explored, and not a possible, saving power 
had he found. 

The day passed, he knew not how, and with the 
coming of night came the officers of the Assembly’s 
commission. Louis de Liancourt was led from his cell 
to the court of the prison, where four other prisoners, 
strangers to him, were standing. He could only judge, 
from their garbs and their general appearance, that 
they were gentlemen. Two of them were much older 
than he ; one was of about his own age ; and one 
younger. They were pale and worn, with the story of 
their fate plainly stamped upon their pain-marked 
faces. 

No word was spoken aloud until the great gate of 
the court had been opened, and a lumbering carriage, 
with four horses attached, had been driven in. The 
light of the flambeaux plainly revealed its character, 
and also revealed a dozen stout guardsmen who bore 
it company. They were cavalrymen, with enormous 
spurs and heavy, iron-sheathed cutlasses. The coach 


A CLOSE CARRIAGE. 


175 


was a near approach in general outline to the common 
stage-coach of the present day. Its wheels were very 
small in diameter, thick and cumbersome ; the lower 
part of the body was a box-like structure, with square 
corners, flaring toward the top ; while the upper part 
was a covering of painted cloth supported upon a frame- 
work of wood. The door — there was but one — was in 
the side, and within were two seats, each long enough 
to give room for three persons. This body rested 
directly upon two strong beams bolted to the axle-trees, 
so that there was no spring to relieve the jolts and jars 
of the passage. 

As this cumbersome vehicle was admitted to the 
court, full a score of boys, who had apparently been at- 
tracted by its oddity into following it, came crowding 
in with it, and at once the jailer and his assistants set 
to the work of driving them out ; but the ragged little 
rascals were not so easily disposed of. 

“ Let us seethe citadine !” a few of the leaders cried. 
“ Let us see it start with its brave load.” 

“ Ho, ho ! Master Jailer, is not the grand thing a 
Dame Blanche ?" shouted one of the very smallest of 
the tow-headed mob. 

The tiny tatterdemalion had the impudence to grasp 
the jailer by the sleeve of his blouse as he spoke, and 
that functionary, in the heat of his wrath and indigna- 
tion, gave the lad a blow upon the side of the head 
that sent him howling away. A little distance he 
went at a bound, and then he stopped and cast 
his eyes around. It was not a frightened look upon 
the boyish face, but a look of keenest, quickest cun- 
ning. 

The two officers whom we have already seen stood 
holding our hero by the arms when the gate was 
opened, and when it appeared that there might be diffi- 


176 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

culty in getting the boys out, the one called capitaine 
became uneasy. 

“Beware !” he cried; “we shall have the mob in 
here if that gate be not shut. Look to our charge, 
Ernest, and I will lend a hand.” 

It was at this moment that the jailor had administered 
the blow to the obtrusive boy, and that same boy, hav- 
ing leaped away from the irate officer of the prison, 
let his quick eye rest upon Louis de Liancourt. In an 
instant he saw the opportunity afforded by the going 
away of the captain, and bounding forward he caught 
the prisoner by the free arm — caught him with one 
hand upon his elbow and the other close down over his 
palm. 

“ Ho ! Monsieur will tell me, I know. Is it not a 
Dame Blanche — the grand carriage?” 

Louis felt the boy’s touch upon his hand and caught 
a gleaming of the bright eye which meant more than 
appeared upon the surface. The light of the flambeaux 
illumined the little fellow’s face, while his hands were 
in the shadow. 

Aye — it did mean something. Louis felt a paper in 
his palm, pressed there by the boyish hand. 

“ Sh!” — [then aloud] — “Is it not a Dame Blanche ?" 

“ Yes, my brave boy.” 

“ God bless you, gentle sir. I will be your friend for 
this.” 

The guardsman who held the prisoner’s x>ther arm 
aimed a smart kick at the boy, but it fell short, and in 
a moment more the diminutive bundle of rags and im- 
pudence had disappeared toward the gate. 

Very shortty after this the shouting rabble was driven 
out and the gates closed. Then the prisoners were led 
to the coach — five of them. 

“ How shall we sit ?” asked one, when three had 


A CLOSE CARRIAGE. 


177 


entered, the first two having taken the back seat, and 
the third seated himself alone upon the front. It was 
the third man who asked. The youngest man of the 
party made answer : 

“ I care not so that Monsieur le Comte and le Corps 
de M/dicins have one seat.” He had been the first to 
enter, and had taken the rear seat, but he arose and 
went over upon the front, and his companion did like- 
wise. 

This left De Liancourt and the oldest man of the 
party — a man of seventy, at least — to occupy the back 
seat. Louis would have urged the youth to retain 
what he had honestly gained, but the latter would not 
listen ; so, with expressions of heartfelt gratitude, the 
two remaining prisoners took the seat thus kindly 
offered, and in a moment more the door was slammed 
to and locked upon the outside.” 

Louis de Liancourt had thus far held the paper 
which the boy had so mysteriously thrust upon him 
closely clutched in his hand, but now that the gaze of 
his guard was 'withdrawn, he put it carefully away into 
an inner pocket until such time as he could read it by 
himself. What it was he could not imagine — a slight 
affair — but a scrap of paper — but it became the foun- 
dation of most wonderful castles in the dim and murky 
atmosphere of distant possibilities. 




i 

I 

CHAPTER XV. 

A STILL DARKER SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

The night was moonless, but the stars were clear, 
and a man with good eyes had no difficulty in picking 
his way, nor in discerning objects in his immediate 
neighborhood. There were glazed apertures in the 
sides of the coach, through which it was easy for the 
inmates to see that a score of stout guardsmen, in 
the saddle, rode in company — ten upon a side — to- 
gether with four grooms, or postilions, with the horses. 
A few loungers on the way stopped to gaze at the lum- 
bering coach, but offered no obstruction. If they mis- 
trusted whom the vehicle contained, and were eager 
for his execution, they seemed to rest satisfied with the 
belief that all must go well with such a guard. 

In a small, open square, at the end of one of the 
avenues leading to the citadel, the cavalcade stopped, 
but only for a few moments ; for hardly had the 
draught horses become quiet, when down from the 
citadel rode four horsemen to join the party. They 
were Gideon de Bar, the mayor ; Gaston, his son, and in- 
tendent of police, with two personal attendants. Not- 
withstanding their bitter howling against the customs 
fi78] 


A STILL DARKER SHADOW OE THE GUILLOTINE. 

of the aristocracy, they were not willing to go to Paris 
without the attendance of a servant. 

With this addition to its force the cavalcade again 
moved on, leaving the city by the southern gate, and 
making as much speed as was possible with the heavy 
tumbrel in tow. 

By the light of the flaming flambeaux in the court 
of the prison the prisoners had been enabled to see one 
another’s faces, so that when on the road, though there 
was no light in the close carriage, its inmates, strangers 
one to the other — or, at least, strangers in part — had 
in mind the form and features that belonged with the 
respective voices. Louis had quickly determined, 
upon hearing mention made of M. le Corps des Mt { de~ 
cuts, that the old man thus designated was no other 
than the celebrated army physician and surgeon, 
Adolphe de la Tremblade. The other three had been 
also connected with the army, one as an assistant sur- 
geon ; one as a steward of the hospital ; and the other 
an officer in the subsistence department. And the 
four of them were under arrest for the same offense : 
They had bitterly denounced the spirit that had brought 
harm to the noble and patriotic La Fayette, and had 
openly declared that they would bear no part in a rev- 
olution which could bring such wickedness to pass. 

“ We spoke boldly,” said the old man, in answer to 
questions of the count, “ and sought not to disguise our 
true sentiments. We did not know — we had not 
dreamed — how extensively the spies of the Jacobin 
Club of Paris were distributed through the country, nor 
what powers had been given into their hands. Look : 
I, who have given a long life of service to my country, 
and have stood ready to serve to the end, have been 
cast down and marked for destruction by one of the 
very meanest and most abandoned wretches of the gutter. 


180 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

For myself I care not so much, but for these brave 
men who have been my comrades, and who are 
younger ! And, for France ! Ah, where shall be the 
end ? Is it not dreadful ?” 

Louis told his story, and when it was discovered by 
his companions that he had been in America, they de- 
manded of him much information concerning that 
grand republic. As the count grew to warmth of heart 
in memory of the old scenes in the land of liberty, his 
language became eloquent and inspiring, and through 
long hours of the darkness, jolting and bumping in the 
hard-seated coach, the prisoners forgot their misery in 
the charm of the traveller’s story. 

The mayor of Arras had taken the precaution of 
leaving town by night to avoid interruption by the 
mob, and the same consideration led him to avoid the 
large and populous places on the way to the capital. 
The nearest and most convenient route would have 
been by the way of Amiens, but that place was left to 
the westward, it being contrived that their stops for 
rest and refreshment should be made at small, out-of- 
the-way hamlets, where the rank and character of the 
prisoners would not be likely to excite trouble. 

The first stop was made, two hours after midnight, 
at the little village of Astreville, where was found a 
tavern large enough to accommodate the party. The 
stable-room was scant, but the weather was fine, and 
there was no objection to tethering some of the horses 
out-of-doors. 

A chamber was found, into which were put all five 
of the prisoners, the physician and the count occupy- 
ing one bed ; the assistant-surgeon and the officer of 
subsistence in another ; while the hospital steward had 
a cot improvised upon the floor. Thus the prisoners 
were well enough cared for so far as their own comfort 


A STILL DARKER SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 181 


was concerned, and the task of holding them tinder 
safe guard was rendered easy. 

A hundred times during the five hours upon the road 
had de Liancourt felt of the scrap of paper in his 
pocket, now to be assured of its safety, and again with 
the instinctive clutching at the only thing within reach 
that could connect him with possible friendship. He 
believed it to be from one of his friends, perhaps from 
the Chateau d’ Artois ; but he hoped from Martin, un- 
less, indeed, it could be from Ninon, which he dared 
not hope. And now, arrived at the inn, and in their 
chamber, with a candle burning, the paper fairly 
burned in his fingers. Should he find opportunity to 
read it ? He could not hope that they would be left 
without a guard in the apartment, nor were they. 
Two of his companions had got into bed, when a plan 
presented itself to his mind. 

In his pocket he had a note-book, in which were 
jotted down scraps of business, and little items to aid 
his memory, and he asked the guard. if he might sit by 
the light and frame a brief petition tq be presented to 
the Minister of Justice. 

The guard looked at him curiously. 

“ Bah ! Thinkest thou Danton will read what you 
write ?” 

“ Man,” replied Louis, with great dignity, “ Georges 
Jacques Danton and I have been friends. Be sure he 
will read what I write.” 

The man seemed to be struck by this. A friend of 
Danton was not to be slighted, even though he were 
under arrest. Had our hero known how seriously his 
hastily cogitated assertion would be taken, he might 
not have ventured quite so far. After a little thought 
the guardsman said that if he might be allowed to 
read all that he wrote, he might write. To this the 


182 THE SHADOW OF THE GtliLtOtiNE. 

count consented, and sitting down near the candle, he 
took out his note-book and pencil, and, when oppor- 
tunity offered, he opened the folded paper, and laid it 
into the book. After this he had but to watch the 
chances, and read the following, which was written in 
English, and, of course, from Martin : 

“ Dear Master: I have just this moment arrived in Arras, 
and find you are to be sent to Paris. I have had a grand ad- 
venture, but I cut the net and broke away. I have found a 
friend who says he will be a friend to you, and he tells to me a 
most wonderful story. If it be true, I have hopes of saving you. 
At all events, I shall not cease to labor. I shall be in Paris as 
soon as you are; but if you were to see me you would not know 
me — neither me nor the friend who is with me. So you will take 
a little heart in knowing that you have devoted friends close at 
hand — friends who will risk much in your behalf. Keep your 
eyes open, and be not surprised at anything you may hear or see. 
A boy, whose life I saved from going out by drowning, will give 
you this if he can. Martin.” 

Louis thrust the missive into his pocket when he had 
read it, and its first effects were to be seen in the free- 
dom with which he went at the work of writing the 
petition. He wrote rapidly — wrote grandiloquently — 
wrote of old and long close friendship — and when he 
had written enough, he called the sentinel and gave the 
book into his hands. It happened that the man could 
really read, and, naturally, no man would have been 
left in that responsible position who possessed not that 
accomplishment. He took the book, and read what 
the count had written. 

“ My faith !” he cried. “ It is not impossible that the 
man of blood may be moved by that. Certainly, Dan- 
ton can save you, if he will. But you will have to send 
him the book as it is ; I doubt if they will allow you 
pen and ink and paper at the Conciergerie.” 


A STILL DARKER SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 183 

The count remarked that he could send the book if 
need be, and opportunity were afforded, and then he 
went to his bed, to get in by the side of De la Trem- 
blade. The note from Martin had given him hope, 
and it had given to him, furthermore, and what was, 
perhaps, better still, a puzzling thought to occupy his 
mind. 

Who was the strange friend who had told to Martin 
the wonderful story ? Martin would never have writ- 
ten those words without good cause, and, moreover, he 
was not a man to be elated without reason. He had 
reason to put faith in this new-found friend, that was 
evident, and if the man had reason, might not the 
master have the same ? Really, there seemed to be 
ground for hope. There was room for fancy to find 
pleasant roaming space. When he slept he dreamed, 
and the central figure of his dream was a man whom 
Martin had led forward as the Friend ; and the mystic 
presence loomed up into gigantic proportions, with 
power to save whom he would, and to crush whom he 
would. 

It was a wonderful dream. Chaos had come again ! 
Darkness was once more upon the face of the deep, 
and the world was without form and void. And dis- 
tinctly the dreamer heard the sound of a Mighty 
Voice, and it said : “ Let there be light !” 

And he saw the face of the majestic presence that 
had come with power to save, and it was a face familiar 
to him, though he could not locate it. By one of those 
wide transitions which the dreamer always accepts 
without question, never recognizing the incongruity, 
the scene had changed to the Deluge, and on every 
hand arose the cry of distress and the wail of despair. 
Men, women and children, and beasts of every kind, 
were being swept away into the vortex of destruction, 


184 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

and close to where he stood, rooted and unable to 
move, surged the all-devouring flood. Suddenly a 
bright light appeared, and the same saving power, this 
time wearing a face he well remembered, was seen in 
the bow of a boat, reaching forth to lift him out of 
danger. The genius pronounced his name and caught 
him by the arm : 

“Citizen Louis ! Awake !” 

He started up and rubbed his eyes. The light of 
day had broken into the chamber, and a guardsman 
stood over him, with a hand upon his arm. 

“ If Monsieur would eat before he sets forth, he has 
no time to waste.” 

And coming back to things of reality, the count 
arose and performed his scant toilet, after which he 
was conducted, with his companions in bonds, down to 
the eating-room, where a very respectable meal was 
served. 

Two more days and two more nights were occupied 
in the journey, and not once on the way had an oppor- 
tunity for escape presented itself. The guards were 
sleepless in their watching, and left no unguarded 
points. In fact, from the time of setting forth from 
Arras to the entrance into Paris, the prisoners had not 
passed a single moment without a watchful eye upon 
them. 

It was early in the day when they reached the 
capital. The Intendent Gaston de Bar had ridden on 
in advance the previous night, and on this morning he 
was at the Gate, or Barriere , of St. Denis, where his 
father had arranged to make his entrance. Very near 
to the entrance to the old city the prisoners were called 
from the great lumbering vehicle in which they had 
come thus far and transferred to a citadine of the com- 
mon hackney class, to which were attached two horses. 


A STILL DARKER SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 185 . 


As they went further into the city the presence of 
the guards attracted the attention of the mob, and the 
cries were loud and hideous. From the little square 
windows of the coach Louis could look out, and the 
sight that met his gaze was sickening. There were no 
signs of labor, no notes of healthy merriment arising 
upon the morning air, but armed men paraded the 
streets and crowded the sidewalks, and the voices that 
broke the air were coarse and ribald and profane. The 
better class of shops were all closed, and their windows 
darkened, but the wine-shops were busy enough. 

On they went, by the Faubourg to the Rue St. Denis 
— on and on to the river, and across to the lie de la 
Citt. The towers of Notre Dame cast their shadows 
down upon them, and directly they stopped where 
other towers cast a shadow — the Tour deJdtsar and the 
Tour Bombte. A deep groan burst from the bosom 
of De la Tremblade when he saw the dark entrance 
between these two towers. It was a passage in one 
way to the Palais de Justice, and in another, to the 
prison of the Conciergerie. There was a brief space in 
which the five men stood in the gloomy, vaulted pass, 
waiting for the officer of the prison. The aged surgeon 
laid his hand upon our hero’s shoulder. His eyes were 
moist, and his lips quivered with unusual emotion as 
he spoke : 

“ Louis, I think you know what this means. Oh, I 
could be happy if they would take me for all ! I am 
old, and a few short days, at best, are all that I could 
claim ; but you, so young and hopeful and fair, with 
the bright promises of life all in the future, and never 
to be fulfilled. And they are men who do these things. 
God made them as He made other men. Have they 
hearts ? I cannot understand it. I suppose we shall 
be separated. We shall be tried and condemned. Oh, 


186 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


what mockery ! Trial ? Oh, that is the most cruel 
thing of all ! But, my son, there is another world and 
another life. I can find comfort in the thought that 
the wicked cannot flourish always. It is in such an 
hour as this that many men cry out : ‘ There is no 

God !’ But, oh, for me, in such an hour, the faith in 
the loving God comes with peace to the soul and heal- 
ing to the bruised heart !” 

“ Amen /” fervently ejaculated the count. 

“ Louis, you believe it ?” 

“ Yes, devoutly.” 

“ It iS'Well. Then let us bid each other adieu. I 
doubt if we meet again on earth. Those who enter 
here leave hope behind.” 

By a mutual impulse they fell each upon the other’s 
bosom, twined in a mutual embrace, breathing words 
of blessing and cheer — not cheer of hope in earthly 
life, but a hope that should find its fruition in the world 
of the Beyond. 

And so the keeper of the prison found them, and 
with a coarse, vulgar jest he bade them be separated. 

Louis de Liancourt was taken by the arm and led 
away — led down into the dark, damp, noisome series of 
dungeons that were below the water of the Seine, 
where he was cast into a narrow cell, with floor and 
walls of unhewn stone, and a door of bolted iron, to 
which light and air were admitted through a small 
opening close under the arched roof. 

And this was the Prison of the Conciergerie, famous 
even then as the tomb of the hopes of all that entered 
it as prisoners. From Doctor de la Tremblade, during 
their journey, the count had learned so much that he 
knew the history of the place thoroughly ; and he also 
knew more than he had before known — aye, more than 
he had ever before believed possible — of the awful 


A STILL DARKER SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 187 


work of the Jacobins in this season of death and 
terror. 

We will not dwell upon the scene. There is no need. 
No pen could tell the horrors of the hour, and the story 
would not be fit to read if it could be told. 

The youthful count was not to remain long in prison. 
Those were times when they were forced to keep mat- 
ters in constant motion. A few days of stagnation in 
the transaction of the routine business would have 
found the Conciergerie overcrowded. Those brought 
in to-day must make room for others on the morrow. 

It was near the middle of the forenoon when Louis 
de Liancourt was consigned to his dungeon, with heavy 
irons upon his wrists and upon his ankles. Before the 
day had closed — while perhaps an hour of daylight 
was left — the door of his cell was opened, and the 
keeper of the prison, with four attendants, appeared, 
all armed at every point. They had had desperate men 
to deal with in that place, and hence they went pre- 
pared. At a sign from their chief two of the men ad- 
vanced and took off the prisoner’s irons, and then the 
other two took him by the arms, one upon each side, 
and led him out. They led him up into the hall above, 
and thence through various windings, to the Palace of 
Justice. In the great chamber of trial, the court of 
the Revolutionary Commission was in session, with 
Danton in the chair. 

As the count entered his name was called. 

“ The Citizen Louis de Liancourt will listen to the 
accusation against him.” 

The clerk of the commission read the indictment, 
framed by a commission of the National Assembly in 
session at Arras. The instrument was not loaded down 
with legal verbiage. It was short, crisp and directly 
to the point. It denounced said Louis de Liancourt as 


188 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


an enemy of France. He liad by force of arms, 
wickedly and maliciously, obstructed officers of the 
government in the performance of their duties ; he had 
stricken to death three true and loyal servants of the 
Assembly, and set free two dangerous conspirators who 
had been denounced to the department of justice, and 
against whom the arm of the law was operating. Thus 
Louis de Liancourt was guilty of Treason and Murder. 

Gideon de Bar, the mayor of Arras, was summoned 
to testify. His testimony was a simple recounting of 
the .story of the conflict upon the highway, in which 
three of his most valued officers had fallen. The lies 
he told were glaring. Louis knew that the two men 
in whose behalf he had raised his sword had never been 
denounced to the department of justice, but that they 
were set upon by hired assassins, and that one of those 
men — he called Rupert of Redwood — had been marked 
out for private slaughter by the mayor himself. Rupert 
had so assured him. And Rupert had known some- 
thing of the case of the man called Joseph Max, and 
had declared that he also had been set upon through 
personal hate and private vengeance. Our hero knew, 
as well as he knew anything that had not come to him 
directly through his senses of sight and hearing, that 
those who had planned the death of Rupert and Joseph 
would no more have dared whisper of their business 
in public than they would have dared the knife of the 
guillotine itself. But what could he say ? What could 
he do ? 

Gaston de Bar, the Intendent of Police of Arras, fol- 
lowed his father and invented new lies at pleasure. 
He swore that he had overheard the prisoner in the 
market-place of Arras denounce the National Assembly 
as a mob of bloodthirsty butchers, and to then and 
there declare that he would wield his sword against 


A STILL DARKER SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 189 


them if the opportunity were ever given him. And the 
lying wretch further swore that he heard the prisoner 
call Danton and Robespierre by name, and declare he 
would like nothing better than to put his st^eel into 
their wicked and cruel hearts. 

A howl of indignation went up from the surging 
throng of crazed and drunken miscreants that crowded 
the outer space and the corridors. 

“ Away with the aristocrat !” shouted a score in con- 
cert. , “ To the guillotine !” shouted others. And the 
epithets bestowed upon him, and the curses were 
frightful to hear. 

At this point the prisoner was informed that he 
might speak. He arose to his feet. But — mercy ! 
He might as well have thought to speak in Bedlam. 
The mob would not have it. The cries and the howls 
and the shrieks grew louder and louder, until the pris- 
oner bowed his head upon his hands and sank back 
into his seat. 

And then the sentence of the court was pronounced. 

Louis de Liancourt was found guilty of murder and 
treason, and was sentenced to die by the guillotine be- 
tween the hours of eight and nine of the clock on the 
forenoon of the morrow. 

And then he was led back to his dungeon. Not to 
the one from which he had just come, but to another, 
nearer to the gate whence the guillotine tumbrel took 
its hourly loads — to a dungeon from which, since the 
Reign of Terror had set in, not a single human being 
had gone forth to live — not one ! 




CHAPTER XVI. 

THE MAN IN THE OLIVE-GREEN COAT. 

A piece of cardboard, or thick paper, with a number 
printed upon it, was given into De Liancourt’s hand as 
the jailer was about to consign him to the new dun- 
geon ; he had observed similar pieces tacked upon the 
outer faces of some of the doors before which they had 
passed, and a piece was upon the door that stood open 
for his benefit. He had just time and opportunity to 
see that the sign upon his door and that upon the bit of 
pasteboard in his hand were the same, when a push 
upon the shoulder reminded him that time was no more 
his. Upon the paper in his hand, as upon his door, he 
found “ X. 476.” 

Very likely that was all that would ever be recorded 
of him in the annals of the Conciergerie. His true 
name was to be known among men no more forever ! 
Like the beasts of the crowded pen, the only name by 
which he should ever again be designated among his 
fellows was the number he bore in the column of the 
condemned ; and as the numbers had grown cumber- 
some from bulk, they had returned to the unit, and 
superadded a letter. 

Only a single man went with the prisoner after the 
narrow passage was reached which led to his cell — a 
[190J 


THE MAN IN THE OLIVE-GREEN COAT. . 191 

gigantic Cyclop, so wondrously above the ordinary 
stature of man that our hero would not have been 
more surprised had he found the towering guardian 
with but one eye, and that in the center of his fore- 
head. This was the famed Butcher of Notre Dame, at 
the sound of whose name even stout men trembled. 
But he was not harsh or impatient, like smaller villains ; 
conscious of his own power, he could afford to be 
moderate. As he pushed the count into his cell, he 
said, in tones not unlike the muttering of distant 
thunder : 

“ Number four seventy-six, series X, forget not your 
designation. You will not be ironed. If you would 
like pen and ink and paper they are at your call. The 
night is before you.” 

“ Can I have a candle ?” m 

“ Monsieur can have now all that he pays for, pro- 
vided it is not against the rules of the prison.” 

The count was not surprised. The seeming privi- 
leges thus extended were, after all, but parts of a 
system of refined cruelty. They thus sought to lighten 
the last hours of the condemned that he might give 
less trouble ; he could spend his money for the benefit 
of the keepers, and whatever he might write would be 
in the hands of the minister of justice, for him to use 
as he pleased. Still, he asked for good candles of wax ; 
for some fine bread and meat, and a bottle of old wine ; 
and for writing materials ; and he gave into the giant’s 
hand two pieces of gold, though he knew that one 
would much more than purchase all he had called for. 

The Cyclop went away, and in the course of half an 
hour returned with the articles designated, all of which 
were found to be of excellent quality. 

The prisoner wanted nothing more, and the keeper 
left him. 


192 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


Louis drank a small measure of wine, and eat some 
of the bread and meat, after which he brushed the 
crumbs from the little stand and laid out the writing- 
materials. He looked at his watch, and found it to be 
almost ten o’clock. Ten hours more of life ! 

He arose, and paced several times to and fro across 
the dungeon. But that would not do. It was only 
agony thus to reflect. He had better employ himself 
in writing. He could not sleep, and he dared not trust 
himself alone with untrammeled thought. He would 
write to Ninon. He would, on paper, teb to her the 
story of his life in America. That woiild occupy his 
time, and if thoughts occurred to him of any directions 
he wished to leave behind him, he could incorporate 
them into the text of his story. He would write noth- 
ing yiat the spies of the Revolution could wish to sup- 
press. 

It was half-past ten when Louis de Liancourt began 
to write. He had written a full hour — it was half-past 
eleven — when he heard a hand upon the fastenings of 
his door. He had heard no approaching footstep. 
Presently the door was opened, and a man with a small 
lantern in his hand entered. The light of the candles 
illumined the cell brightly, and the visitor stood 
plainly revealed. 

It was the slight, angular figure, with cadaverous 
face, with the deep-set, steel-blue eyes, the wide nos- 
trils below a small, straight nose, with the thin-lipped, 
capacious mouth, the muscles of all the features at a 
painful tension, and, not to be forgotten, the thread- 
bare, olive-green coat, probably his only one — the same 
man, in short, whom Louis had once met in the forest 
of Artois, and for rescuing whom from the steel of 
assassins he had been brought to trial and condemned 
to death. 


THE MAN IN THE OLIVE-GREEN COAT. 


193 


Only as Joseph Max had our hero known the man, 
but now a new light burst upon him, and its revelation 
took away his breath and caused his heart to stand still. 
He had arisen upon the man’s entrance, but as the 
astounding probability presented itself he sank back 
into his seat from utter weakness. 

The visitor noiselessly closed the door behind him, 
and having set his lantern upon the pavement, he sat 
down upon the edge of the low pallet. He breathed 
hard and pressed his hand over his heart as though he 
felt pain the*e. 

“ Well, mon brave, did you think you should ever see 
me again ?” And over the sunken countenance, usually 
so severe and so sarcastic, to which smiles, as a gen- 
eral thing with him, only gave new force of sarcasm, 
came a smile of charming sweetness, and altogether 
winning. In that smile was seen the good part of the 
man which the world was never to know or remember. 
It was there — all the sweetness and the sympathy and 
the capacity to love, which might, under other circum- 
stances, have made of Francois Joseph Maximilien 
Isidore Robespierre a healthful reformer and a philan- 
thropist. But he seemed to be a duality. There were 
in his nature — in his spirit essence — two distinct, an- 
tagonistic personalities. Circumstances threw him 
into the revolution, and other circumstances made him 
a leader. He struggled hard, in the establishment of 
the republic, to abolish the death penalty, and his name 
was affixed to but very few death sentences ; and yet, 
when high in power, where his voice might have 
worked much saving, he let the work of slaughter go 
on, and called it glorious. Like a giant rocket fatally 
balanced, he possessed brilliant qualities, and was a 
reservoir of wondrous power — a bold and dangerous 
man — dangerous alike to friends and foes. 


194 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


Yes, our hero now knew the man. He could not be 
mistaken. There was not another man in France who 
could answer his description. The event, bursting 
upon him so suddenly and so unexpectedly, for the 
moment completely upset his mental part, and left him 
to gaze in vacant wonder and awe upon the intruder. 
There was struggling in his mind a vague sense of in- 
credulity — a sort of instinctive battling of reason 
against apparent facts — as, for instance, how could the 
man — the public accuser — have been away in Artois 
when nobody knew that he had been a day and a night 
away from Paris ? But his landlady might have told 
an inquirer, had she been so inclined, that there had 
been three days when she had sworn to everybody who 
called that Robespierre was sick nigh unto death, and 
was just then sleeping ; and yet, during all that time, 
she had known of him only that he was gone. But she 
was a woman to be trusted, and she held her revolu- 
tionary lodger as a being but little, if any, below the 
estate of the saints and angels. She literally wor- 
shiped him. 

Perhaps two minutes passed after the newcomer 
entered the cell before a word was spoken. He took 
a seat upon the low pallet, and regarded the youth 
before him with a look of interest, and finally came the 
nodding, smiling question : 

“ Well, mon brave , did you think you should ever see 
me again ?” 

And then the whole truth had burst upon the prisoner 
beyond the reach of a doubt, and wonder paralyzed his 
tongue. Pretty soon the visitor spoke again : 

“ Monsieur le Comte, let us drop the slang of the day, 
and talk after the fashion of our fathers. I think you 
know me ?” 

“ If you are Robespierre — yes.” 


THE MAN IN THE OLIVE-GREEN COAT. 


195 


“ I am that most unfortunate man ; and I have no 
doubt, if you had known me in the wood of Miremont, 
you would not have drawn your sword and risked your 
life to save me.” 

“ You judge me wrongfully, sir. When I can see a 
weak man at the mercy of a villain who is physically 
stronger, and not render my assistance, I should de- 
spise myself. If you ask me : Does your name inspire 
me with horror, I frankly tell you, yes ; and yet I 
would help you again, were you again in trouble, and 
the opportunity were mine, as it was then.” 

“ But you did not then know me ?” 

“ No.” 

“ You had no suspicion ?” 

“ Not the least.” 

“Yet, I did not tell you falsely in regard to my 
name. It is mine, as I gave it, though I gave but 
a fraction. And now, perhaps, you wonder why I am 
here ?” 

“ I certainly cannot imagine.” 

“Then I will tell you. You have a servant named 
Martin Duval ?” 

“ Yes,” answered Louis, with a slight start, “and you 
owe to him something of your life, for his hand struck 
right stoutly in your behalf.” 

“ I know it, Sir Count. Well, yesterday, before noon, 
Martin sought me in my private room. I recognized 
him, and admitted him. He is a reader of human 
character. He looked into my face, and felt that he 
might safely trust me. He had a friend with him whom 
he would like to bring in. He had, of his own accord, 
suspected who I was, and his friend had assured him. 
I sent him for his friend, and when his friend came, I 
found him to be none other than my chance companion 
Qf that night, Rupert of Redwood. Be sure they were 


196 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


both disguised. Your man you might not have rec- 
ognized at sight. Rupert had been in disguise since 
the murderous assault in the forest, for he had dis- 
covered that a deadly enemy was upon his track. He 
revealed himself to Martin. Did you get a secret letter 
from your servant ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, when we had found Rupert of Redwood, and 
had heard something of a very wonderful story which 
that strange man had to tell, and after he had made 
sure that Robespierre was really the man whom his 
master had succored, he had resolved to hasten to 
Paris and demand from Robespierre the assistance 
which, as a human being, to say nothing of being a 
Christian, he ought to render. He wrote that note, 
and sent it to you, and then watched for your depar- 
ture. He saw you set forth with your guard, and then 
he and Rupert dashed on in advance. Arrived in Paris 
they sought me alone. They cared not to speak to 
another. Martin Duval confessed that he had been 
under arrest, and had escaped — Hold ! He must 
tell you the story himself. And Rupert of Redwood 
felt no assurance of keeping his head on his shoulders 
a day after his presence in Artois was known. Of 
course, they were anxious to save themselves, and the 
way was open before them ; but, Sir Louis, they would 
not go and leave you behind. Martin had come to 
Paris either to save you or to die with you ; and for 
the saving he came to me. He dared his own fate in tak- 
ing the bold step, and he was bolder still in telling me 
what was my duty under the circumstances. Louis de 
Liancourt, since the dawn of the Revolution, and the 
establishment of the present system not a human 
being — not one — has gone forth from this place save to 
death ! The sentence of the judge is final and absolute, 


THE MAN IN THE OLIVE-GREEN COAT. 


197 


and there can be no appeal. Do you realize this ? 
Have you thought of it ?” 

“ Yes,” said the count, in a hoarse whisper, clutch- 
ing his fingers as he spoke. “ I have realized it most 
fully.” 

“ Ah, my friend, how little do we regard the events 
of to-day in their bearing upon things to come ! Little 
did you think when, from the promptings of a generous 
heart, you drew your sword to afford protection to a 
suffering stranger, that you were building the bridge 
that should bear you over the darkest gulf that ever 
yawned at the foot of mortal man. Aye, Louis de 
Liancourt, I am come to prove to you that Robespierre 
can be grateful ; and I swear to you that in coming 
here upon this errand I take my life in my hand. Were 
Marat or Danton to know that I did this thing, they 
would give me to the guillotine to-morrow. They are 
jealous of me now. They fear and hate me. So, you 
see, I must demand of you the most profound and en- 
tire secrecy.” 

The prisoner could hardly credit the evidence of his 
senses ; but a look into the tensely drawn face of the 
man before him so strong and firm in its resolution, 
gave him assurance. He started forward and caught 
his visitor by the hand. 

“ My friend ! My brother ! Oh, Heaven bless you 
for this ! I do not so much fear death ; but to die such 
a death, and to feel that my young life is sworn away 
by a lying wretch, to whose tongue truth is a stranger 
— oh, it is terrible ! And I had so much of promise in 
the future — so much to love and to prize — and even 
this the abandoned miscreant would steal from me and 
take to himself. Oh, if you can give me back my life, 
I will bless you to my dying day !” 

Men of the French Assembly would not have known 


198 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


Robespierre bad they seen him at that moment. Never 
in the great chamber had such a look been upon his 
countenance. The better part of him was in active 
being, and his heart swelled to the size of the great and 
the true. 

“ Louis,” he said, holding the youth’s hand, “ I will 
save you. Time is short, and but a few brief moments 
can we call our own. I shall go out and come back 
again. At midnight friends of my own selection will 
be posted as sentinels at the points you must pass in 
escape. There are but two of them, for the dungeons 
of the condemned are very near to the gate of the 
guillotine, where the death-carts take their loads. You 
will bless me if you can ; but, at least, in the time to 
come, when you shall hear men denouncing the mon- 
ster Robespierre, you will tell to them that he could 
be grateful, and that he could make a sacrifice for 
friendship. Tell them that he was what the times 
made him ; and — and — ere that time shall come — the 
time when you can mention my name again in France 
— the head of Maximilien Robespierre will have fallen !” 

“ My friend—” 

“ Hold !” commanded the Jacobin chief, putting out 
his hand. “ Let us say no more. I only know that I 
am doomed. Marat will be assassinated. He is a 
monster, and will fall by the hand of an enemy. I am 
feared more by my associates than by others, and shall 
fall by the hands of those who call themselves my 
friends. 

“ Now, Monsieur le Comte, you will be prepared. I 
shall return in half an hour. You will not be ashamed 
to wear a blouse and a red cap ?” 

“ No. Since you offer me life and liberty, I should 
be ungrateful, indeed, did I allow a prejudice to lead 
me to dispute or oppose you.” 


THE MAN IN THE OLIVE-GREEN COAT. 199 

“ It is well. I will come in half an hour.” 

And thus speaking the man went out. Louis looked 
at his watch, and found that it lacked only ten minutes 
of midnight. 

How that half-hour next succeeding was passed he 
could never tell. From the day, or the night, of his 
going-forth from that dreadful prison, he could never 
call to mind the events of those thirty minutes. His 
brain was in a whirl, and it was with the utmost exer- 
tion that he could restrain himself from wild and in- 
sane antics. He knew that the great bell in the tower 
of Notre Dame pealed forth the note of midnight, and 
like an echo of the bell sounded the cry of the sentinels 
through the vast structure, of : “ All ’s well !” The 
only clear thought of the whole time was : “ Have I 
dreamed all this ?” 

He paced the floor of his dungeon in agony as the 
dreadful possibility came to his mind. He had experi- 
enced things in dreams full as wonderful as that would 
be. Oh, was it, after all, only a dream ? 

He had asked himself this question for the twentieth 
time, when the door of his cell was opened, and 
Robespierre reappeared, and as his eyes rested upon 
the veritable man, a devout ejaculation of gratitude 
burst from his lips. 

“ Have you allowed yourself to fear that I would not 
keep my promise ?” asked the Jacobin, as he marked 
the fervor of the ejaculation. 

“ Oh, no, no — not that !” cried Louis, quickly. “ If 
you can believe it, I have really asked myself if I 
might not have dreamed this great event of good. I 
could hardly realize it.” 

“ Well, well, you shall realize it very soon. And now 
let me say : What we do we must do quickly and must 
do boldly. There must be no hesitation — no faltering, 


200 


THE SHADOW OP THE GUILLOTINE. 


no fearing. Here are the clothes. You can put on 
the blouse over your coat, and your own cap you can 
hide in your bosom. ” 

The count very soon donned the blouse, which was 
large enough to go on easily over his own garments, 
and though a sense of something like degradation came 
over him as he took the soiled red cap in his hand, he 
put it upon his head with a feeling . of lively grati- 
tude. 

“ There,” pursued Robespierre, when the metamor- 
phosis had been made, “ now prepare yourself for 
further surprise. Call up all your resolution, and let 
ncff a thing which may occur move you to any outward 
demonstration. The two sentinels whom we are to 
pass will probably* join you. Do not speak to them. 
Should you recognize them, make no sign. I have put 
those men upon post for a purpose. It has cost me an 
effort, be sure. To accomplish it I had to plan an 
expedition into the country for the regular prison 
guard, and then I had to plan still further to get these 
two upon the proper posts during these two hours. 
But thank fortune I have done it, and all is well. Only 
an accident unforeseen and extraordinary can mar my 
plot. Are you ready ?” 

“ I am ready.” 

“ Then here we speak our word of farewell. If you 
are wise you will make the best of your way from 
France. Stop for nothing, only to provide yourself 
with disguise, and that, I think, your friend has ready 
for you. Hush ! If you were about to speak of the 
people at the Chateau d’ Artois, I can relieve you. You 
may go that way, and I think the Lady Ninon will go 
with you to England. There, no more. Do not burden 
me. I can understand your gratitude, and I believe it 
is deep and true.” 


THE MAN IN THE OLIVE-GREEN COAT. 


201 


“ It is — it is ! Oh, God and the good angels bless you, 
now and evermore !” 

“Amen ! Now, monsieur, let us move on.” 

The candles were extinguished, and then taking up 
his lantern, the Jacobin chief led the way out from the 
dungeon, closing the door and shooting the bolts into 
their deep sockets. 

As we have already said, the distance to the stand of 
the guillotine carts was not far ; only through the nar- 
row, vaulted passage to a circular hall, across that to 
another passage, at the end of which was a heavy door, 
massive almost beyond description, and guarded by a 
sentinel. The sentinel was a man of medium size, 
apparently a little past the middle age, and every inch 
a soldier. As he saw the lantern approaching and saw 
who bore it, he commenced at once to withdraw the 
bolts of the door, and by the time the prisoner and his 
conductor came up all was clear. A whisper from 
Robespierre, and the ponderous door swung slowly 
open, care having been taken to oil its hinges, and the 
two adventurers passed through, the sentinel reclosing 
the door behind him and following the others. 

A little farther and they came to the outer gate, the 
wicket of which stood ajar. Here was another sentinel, 
and as the light of the lantern fell upon his face our 
hero recognized the well-known features of Martin. 

But no word was spoken, only, upon this discovery, 
Louis turned and looked into the face of the first sen- 
tinel, whom he now recognized. There could be no 
mistake. It was the second man of the forest conflict, 
Rupert of Redwood ! And now the count could under- 
stand what Martin had meant by what he had written 
of the friends he had found. 

As the wicket was pushed open, Robespierre caught 
the count’s hand. 


202 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


“Adieu, Louis de Liancourt. When you hear of the 
death of Robespierre, remember him kindly. Hush ! 
Not a word ! Adieu /” 

Louis could not resist the impulse. With a spas- 
modic motion he raised the hand of Robespierre to his 
lips, and, in a moment more, Martin Duval and Rupert 
of Redwood led him away. In the dark or the lighted 
streets, crowded or empty, two men wearing the uni- 
form of the National Guard, and a man in a blue blouse 
and red cap, might go where they pleased. 

On the following morning there was consternation at 
the Prison of the Conciergerie. A prisoner had es- 
caped, and two sentinels had gone off with him. But 
no noise was made.' It was not policy. How the thing 
had been done was a profound mystery, to the solving 
of which no possible clue could be obtained. Those in 
authority dared not let the mishap be known ; and 
where there were hundreds being carted away daily 
from the death-gate to the guillotine, the absence of 
one — and one hardly known by name in Paris — would 
not be discovered by the multitude. 

Meantime, three men, deeply and adroitly disguised, 
were making the best of their way toward the northern 
departments, and be sure they had strange and inter- 
esting stories to tell to one another as they pursued 
their earnest course. 




CHAPTER XVII. 

GLEAM OF LIGHT INTO A DARK PLACE. 

Gideon de Bar and his son had returned from Paris, 
jubilant. They had heard the fiat of the court pro- 
nounced, with Danton himself presiding-, and had seen 
Louis de Liancourt led away to the prison of the con- 
demned. 

Gideon de Bar, with all his ugliness and grossness, 
and possible cruelty, did not care to see the youthful 
count beheaded. He thought to himself that in the 
time to come, as he grew older, and cares weighed upon 
him, the memory of the scene might haunt him. And 
yet he desired to be absolutely and entirely assured, 
and to this end he ventured to address the majesty of 
the law itself — the Minister Danton. He asked him, 
was there, or could there be, any possible way by which 
Louis de Liancourt’s life could be spared. 

The minister looked at him in surprise ; and he 
answered, with the grand emphasis peculiar to him : 

“ When the sun stops in his daily course, then will 
the judgment of my court be reversed ! When you 
behold a planet blotted out from existence by sudden 
annihilation, then you may ask if one condemned has 
been saved to life ! But, my friend, of all who have 

[203] 



204 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


been this day condemned — and there have been more 
than a hundred — the Count de la Capelle is the very 
last who should be suffered to go free. He dies as sure 
as the morrow dawns !” 

That was enough, and with such assurance the Mayor 
of Arras had returned to his home, prepared now to 
make the final move for the grand possession he had 
so long aimed at. A dangerous obstacle had been re- 
moved, and if there was another obstacle in existence 
he must strike before it could present itself. While 
he was hurrying to put the train in motion his son 
asked him why he was so anxious. 

“ What difference can a few weeks make ?” Gaston 
asked. The truth was, Gaston de Bar’s heart inclined 
strongly toward a girl of Arras with whom he had long 
been on intimate terms, and to whom he had given a 
sacred pledge of his love and his faith. This girl had 
heard of the proposed marriage of her lover with the 
Lady Ninon, and she swore terrible vengeance in the 
event of the consummation. This made Gaston hesi- 
tate, and he asked what difference a few weeks could 
make. 

“ What difference !” repeated the father, in a flash 
of passion. “ My soul, it may make all the difference 
in the world. You may lose the prize by delay.” 

“ But I see not how. Have you not the marquis 
completely under your thumb ?” 

The burly mayor walked across the apartment, and 
when he came back there was a. look of strange im- 
port upon his face. He laid his hand vipon his son’s 
shoulder, and, in low, solemn tones, said : 

“ Gaston, there is a danger you know not of. I tried 
to remove it, and failed. A man lives who has power 
to work us great harm ; but the marriage once con- 
summated sets his power at rest. Great heavens, will 


A GLEAM OF LIGHT INTO A DARK PLACE. 


205 


you falter at this point ? Is it Rachel St. Martin you 
fear ?” 

The son bent his head upon his hand, and, for a little 
time, sat in profound meditation. At length he looked 
up and said : 

“ My respected parent, Rachel is the girl that makes 
the hitch, but she must not stand between me and 
fortune. I did not know there was another danger 
beside the meddling of the count ; but since there is, 
and you say it is imminent, the girl must be silenced. 
If she will not listen to reason, we will try the effect 
of a complaint before our court. I think I can make 
her talk treason to the Revolution.” 

The old man was delighted. A human heart was no 
more to him than the dust beneath his feet. That his 
son should wrong poor Rachel St. Martin did not 
trouble him in the least ; and if he could cast off the 
responsibility by inflicting a still greater wrong — a 
wrong that meant ruin, utter and terrible — he would 
join in the work readily, and feel thankful for success. 

It was in the afternoon when this conversation took 
place. That evening Gaston called upon Rachael St. 
Martin, a bright-eyed, happy-hearted grisette of the 
better walks of life ; an honest, truthful girl, whose 
only heritage was an estate of health and beauty. 
He spent half an hour with her, and left her in the 
uttermost depths of agony. He had had the heart to 
threaten her if she made him trouble, that he would 
drag her before the criminal court for the trial of polit- 
ical offenses. Poor girl ! She knew too well what 
that meant. She had seen four of her own dear 
friends given up to the guillotine within a month for 
offenses of speech not one whit more contumacious 
than Gaston could swear against her. 

She submitted with bowed head and throbbing heart. 


206 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


If she thought of anything beyond, she did not speak 
of it. 

So Gaston de Bar was enabled to report to his father 
that the way was clear. 

“ Then,” said Gideon, speaking as though the last 
doubt had been cleared away and the last weight 
lifted, “ on the morrow we will repair to the. castle and 
have the business finished. I obtained all the neces- 
sary papers before we went to Paris, even to the sign- 
ing of the contract of marriage and the settlement of 
property by the marquis. We will take our clergyman 
with us. Oh, my boy, what a leap upward ! Can you 
realize it ? Can you imagine that you are to be mas- 
ter of the grand old castle of Saint Jean ?” 

Gaston’s eyes sparkled and his face glowed. It was 
truly a grand prospect, and he was ready to profit by 
the opportunity. Really, since titles of nobility were 
to be abolished throughout the kingdom, his estate 
would be as grand as the grandest, and his position as 
high as the highest. 

******* 

It was toward the close of this same day — the day of 
the discussion and the plotting in the office of the 
mayor of Arras — that Ninon d’ Artois, with Blanchette 
in company, burst into the library where the marquis 
sat. She was alive with intense excitement, and her 
breath came in labored throes. 

“ Oh, papa ! Papa ! Such a wonderful thing has 
happened ! Oh, you shall take millions upon millions 
of money and go to Paris and help Louis out of trouble. 
It is his money, but he will not care.” 

Sir Philip regarded the girl with blank astonishment. 

“ In the name of mercy, child, what are you talking 
of ?” 

“ Blanchette,” cried our heroine breathlessly, at the 


A GLEAM OF LIGHT INTO A DARK PLACE. 207 


same time sinking into a seat, “ do you tell him. Tell 
him the whole, from beginning to end. He knows 
about the papers as a whole, but not about this one in 
particular. Tell him ! Tell him!” 

Upon that the marquis turned to the maid who, when 
she had comfortably seated herself, spoke clearly and 
promptly as follows : 

“Your lordship remembers the papers which Sir 
Louis gave into my lady’s keeping. They were all of 
them old, and some of them very, very old. Among 
them were parchments and scraps of fine white bark, 
on which was writing. While looking over the papers, 
which the count told her to do, she came across one 
which attracted her attention. It was a parchment, 
curiously folded, and proved to be a statement made 
by one of the old and powerful counts of la Capelle 
who lived in the fourteenth century— a Sir Benedict de 
la Capelle.” 

“ You remember, papa,” interposed Ninon at this 
point, “ that such was the old family name of the house. 
The De Liancourts came in with the ascent to the throne 
of the Bourbons.” 

The marquis remembered, and Blanchette went on : 

“ Well, Ninon showed the parchment to me. It had 
been written during the terrible uprising in Picardy 
and Artois of the Jacquerie under the lead of the 
renowned and bloody Caillet. The Count Benedict 
had been marked for destruction, and in anticipation 
of that event he gathered up his gold and jewels to the 
amount of a million of crowns, and buried the whole 
beneath the stone floor of a dungeon of his castle. On 
the inside of that parchment we found the directions 
for finding the buried treasure.” 

At this point the marquis interrupted the narrative. 

“ I remember very well,” he said, “ to have read the 


208 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


story of Sir Benedict. He was one of the bravest and 
stoutest knights of King John of Valois. He was killed 
by the Jacquerie, and his castle ransacked, but not an 
ounce of gold nor a jewel was found. But — go on, 
Blanchette.” 

“Well, my lord, fearing you would laugh at us if we 
proposed to you to go and search, Ninon persuaded old 
Nicholas and Marius to go, and when Marius had seen 
the parchment, he called two of his best and stoutest 
men to bear him company. We went to the ruin which 
the dreadful Jacobins have made. Ah ! If they could 
have known what was beneath their feet ! But they 
did not know. We went, and we found the dungeon. 
It was beneath the northern tower of the old keep — a 
great, square vault, away down in the darkness, where 
man had not rested for ages. We found the stone 
which was described by the old count, and Marius and 
his men lifted it with iron bars. And there, my lord, 
in four iron-bound chests, which axes easily opened, we 
found the gold and the jewels. Oh !” 

“ Oh !” broke in Ninon, starting to her feet. “Come 
and look ! I have had the chests brought to the cas- 
tle, and they are in the great hall. They belong to 
our dear Louis, and you must use them for him, if you 
can. Come, papa. Oh, such a grand sight !” 

And so it proved. The marquis found that Blanch- 
ette had not overstated. Of gold and precious stones 
— especially of diamonds, rubies and emeralds — there 
was wealth more than Sir Philip had ever before seen 
gathered in one collection. It was wonderful ; almost 
too wonderful for belief, and yet the whole thing was 
as simple as could be. By a chance seeming almost 
miraculous, Ninon had found the key to the vast wealth, 
the disappearance of which, more than four hundred 
years agone, had mystified the people, and which had 


A GLEAM 0F LIGHT INTO A DARK PLACE. 


209 


been a profound mystery ever since. He knew, from 
written and printed accounts, that months upon months 
of labor had been expended, first and last, in fruitless 
search. 

And now it had been found. And it rightly be- 
longed to Louis de Liancourt — every part and particle 
of it. Would it be possible to use any part of it for its 
owner’s good ? They must wait and see. On the mor- 
row, the marquis would investigate. For the present 
the wealth should be carried into one of the strong 
store-rooms, and a trusty guard set over it. 

And so it was done. 

And that night, before she retired, Ninon bent upon 
her knees and offered up a fervent prayer for her dear 
lover. 

And how was it with the marquis ? Ah ! He was 
beginning to understand the human capacity for suffer- 
ing, and to believe that mental torture could sooner 
darken life than physical. 

After Ninon left him to seek her pillow, a belated 
courier arrived from Arras, bearing papers and letters. 
One of the papers was a dingy, dirty sheet, the paper 
coarse, and the printing abominable, entitled The Con- 
stitution. Seeing that it was from Paris, and that the 
date was recent, he hurried away with it to the library. 
He fortified himself with a draught of wine, and then 
sat down with the lamp at his elbow. 

No need to ask the character of the paper. Its com- 
plexion betrayed it. In it the marquis found the thing 
he had anticipated — the thing crushed and broke him 
utterfy. In the very first column of the very first page 
of the paper were found the records of the court and 
the guillotine, and there, leading all the rest, he found 
the name — “ Louis de Liancourt, formerly styled Count 
de la Capelle !” 


210 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


He read ; and his eyes remained fixed upon the hor- 
ror-weighted paragraph, until the letters ran together, 
and faded from his sight. So he sat for half an hour, 
when he arose slowly and painfully from his chair, and 
staggered away to his chamber. He folded the paper 
into as narrow a compass as possible, and hid it away 
under his bedding, and then cast himself upon his 
couch. 

Through that night Ninon slept sweetly and dreamed 
of pleasant things. 

The marquis dared not sleep. Such frightful spec- 
ters visited his sleeping moments that he feared to 
close his eyes ; and all night long he kept the company 
of the great Horror that had come to him in the dingy, 
dirty paper from the capital. 

The morning dawned, and Sir Philip was thankful 
for the first gray beams of light. The darkness was 
oppressive. He arose and performed a hasty, careless 
toilet, and then went down into the store-room, where 
he found Marius himself on duty, and the treasure safe. 
The lieutenant had taken the precaution of putting a 
seal upon the covers of the chests. 

“ My lord,” the devoted officer cried, with enthusiasm, 
“ do you realize what a mine of wealth is here col- 
lected ? Ninon assures me that it might well and 
completely furnish the coffers of a king. Ah, let us 
hope it may help our dear young lord to liberty and 
life !” 

“ Has Ninon been here this morning ?” asked the 
host. 

“ Yes, my lord. She could not rest until ske had 
come and assured herself that all was safe.” 

Sir Philip said no more. He could not meet Ninon 
at that time. He must compose himself. So he strode 
away into the outer court, where he remained until 


A GLEAM OF LIGHT INTO A DARK PLACE. 


m 


summons to the morning meal was sounded. He sent 
word that he was very busy, and should eat no break- 
fast, and then he went and shut himself up in his 
library. 

He was in the library, pacing to and fro, battling 
with the horrors that were crowding upon him. From 
that dark and dismal hour of the long-gone years, 
when he had stricken down Juan de St. Denis in the 
forest, to this present moment, it seemed as though 
there had been a steady and persistent accumulation 
of evil upon his devoted head. And through it all 
there had been but one thing of brightness — but one 
single joy — the gentle, beautiful girl he called daughter. 
And now — now — the Horror was to fall upon her ! 

Oh, would it come ? Would Gideon de Bar come 
and claim the prize ? Was there no way of escape ? 
Louis was dead, the last of his name ! No one else — 
none but himself, if he could secure it in season — could 
claim the vast wealth that now lay stored in his castle. 
If he could take that, and get beyond the French 
border ! He stopped with this thought in his mind, 
and buried his face in his hands. 

He was aroused by the tramp of horses’ feet and 
the sound of carriage- wheels. He went to the window, 
and looked out upon the landing before the great 
porch, where he saw, alighting from their saddles, 
Gaston de Bar and a dozen stout troopers, while from 
a gilded coach alighted the Mayor of Arras, and a 
man whom the marquis recognized as a loud-mouthed 
dissenting clergyman, a follower of Diderot, whose 
doctrines were clearly infidel. Could there be any 
mistake as to the meaning of this ? This miserable 
man called to mind the marriage contract which he 
had signed and given into De Bar’s hand, and now he 
knew the final scene of the dreadful drama was at hand. 


212 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


The visitors were ushered into the library, where the 
noble host, with all the strength he could command, 
stood and received them. When he finally sank into 
his seat he could not have stood longer. His limbs 
had grown weak and paralyzed, and his heart throbbed 
so violently as to interfere with his breathing. 

“ My son, the Intendent of Police, you know, my 
lord,” said Gideon, bowing with disgusting familiarity. 
“ But you will allow me to present my very dear friend, 
the Reverend Valentine de Tigny.” 

The proud man’s heart sank with shame and bitter 
humiliation as he took the promptly proffered hand of 
the man thus introduced, for he recognized by the 
name a wretch of St. Pol, who had been a tricky lawyer 
under the king, but who, under the Revolutionary gov- 
ernment, and through favor of the Jacobin Club, had 
been armed with sacerdotal powers and privileges. 
And he must take the hand of this degraded man, and 
accept him into fellowship, for the time, at least. It 
was hard ; but ah, there was harder to come. 

When the marquis had sunk down upon his seat, 
Gideon de Bar drew a seat near to him and spoke. His 
words were closely and slowly spoken, each one bear- 
ing its share of meaning, and together bearing a mean- 
ing not to be mistaken. He so spoke that nothing was 
left to conjecture : 

“ Philip d’ Artois, after all these years of understand- 
ing between us, it would be folly for me to waste time 
in either offering or listening to argument of an^kind. 
I have brought with me the contract of marriage 
between Gaston de Bar and Ninon d ’Artois, signed and 
and sealed ; I have the license, procured long ago, and 
now countersigned by the minister of justice ; and I have 
brought with me a clergyman who has the authority 
to bind the nuptial bonds. On my part all is ready, 


A GLEAM OF LIGHT INTO A DARK PLACE. 213 


and even on your part I have provided for all save the 
simple act of producing the only party wanting to ful- 
fill the contract. Will you bring her, and have the 
business done with at once and forever ? Mark you, 
we wait for the Lady Ninon. If she does not come, a 
certain paper which I hold comes forth to the light of 
day ; the guardsmen here under my command will 
bear you back to Arras, and in four-and-twenty hours 
your head will fall. You know that Louis de Liancourt 
has paid the penalty of incurring my wrath. Will you 
try the same ?” 

Why continue the scene ? The poor man was broken 
and crushed, and it was only a question of time as to 
his surrender. Gideon de Bar held him in abject 
bondage, body and soul, and his life was suspended by 
a thread, which a breath from De Bar could snap 
asunder. 

With wild eyes and bated breath, the girl, Blanch- 
ette, flew to the presence of her mistress. She had 
overheard the conversation in the library, and knew 
that Philip d’ Artois was conquered. In hurried, fren- 
zied words she told the terrible story. 

“ The priest is here — a miserable, wicked infidel. 
Gaston de Bar is here, fresh from the pest-holes of 
Arras ; and I saw the marriage contract, bearing his 
name and yours , and also bearing the seal and signi- 
ture of your father.” 

Here the girl paused, and, after a time, with a spas- 
modic burst of painful emotion, she added : 

“ And — oh ! They have taken the life of our brave 
Louis de Liancourt !” 

A loud cry broke from Ninon’s lips, and she clutched 
her hands in mid-air. She was asking how her lover 
had died, when the lieutenant, Marius, entered, and 
gave to her a folded paper. There was something in 


214 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


his face — something in his eloquent silence — that sud- 
denly inspired her. She caught the paper and opened 
it. She read, and a cry of joy burst from her quiver- 
ing lips. 

“ Safe — safe — safe ! He is alive, and is near at 
hand ! My own, my darling Louis ! See ! Marius, 
read it. And then make haste. Oh, gather your men 
as quickly as possible ! Gather all the true and faith- 
ful of the castle and call in the true and the loyal from 
without ! I know not what he will do, but I have 
faith. Oh, Heaven, help the right !” 

The lieutenant took the missive and read it. It was 
from Louis de Liancourt. He had followed Gideon de 
Bar from Arras, and knew all about his plans. Men 
enough must be gathered to overcome the mayor’s 
force. Let that be done quickly and then wait for 
him. He would tell all else when he had opportunity. 
“ Marius is your man. Give the work into his hands ; 
and God speed him !” 

“ It shall be done !” said Marius ; and without wait- 
ing longer he dashed away. He knew his men, and 
knew just where to put his hand upon them ; and he 
had no fear of the Jacobin troopers, now that a noble 
leader, of heart and courage, was to take the com. 
mand. 





CHAPTER XVIII. 

LEAVING THE SHADOW BEHIND CONCLUSION. 

Like a guilt-burdened, sorely frightened criminal, 
Philip d’Artois appeared before Ninon in her own 
private apartment. She could not help asking herself 
the question, as she looked upon him, how she had 
come to have so brave a heart with a father so timid 
and so craven ; for she knew that he cringed beneath 
the hand of Gideon de Bar. But she was soon to have 
light. The marquis had come to tell her the story that 
she must hear in order to understand why she was 
called upon to make the sacrifice now demanded. He 
asked her to be patient and to listen. 

And then he told to her the story which he had told 
to Louis, and which we heard in all its details at the 
time. He told all save the one important fact of her 
true parentage. He told all the rest without telling 
her that she was the daughter of the man whom he had 
accidentally slain in the forest. Her emotions as she 
listened can be better imagined than described. One 
thing she saw clearly : she saw how, in the present 
condition of national affairs, the marquis was com- 

[215] 


216 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


pletely at the mercy of this wicked enemy. Had she 
not looked for the coming of Louis, it is impossible to 
say what she might have done. While she believed 
the man before her to be her father, she might make 
any sacrifice to save his life ; for he had been very, 
very kind to her always. 

The marquis arose from his seat and took a few 
turns across the floor. His frame shook, and it was 
plain to be seen that a mighty struggle was going on 
within. At length a light broke over his face, and he 
stopped and laid his hand upon the maiden’s shoulder. 

“ Ninon ! Dear, blessed girl ! I will be coward and 
craven no more. All these years I have acted a miser- 
able part, but now that the dreadful ordeal is presented, 
I will not ask you to suffer. You shall not. It is no 
part of your duty. Oh, my child ! Let me call you so 
just this once. My child — my child ! You shall know 
the whole truth, and I will suffer all that is to be suf- 
fered — not you ! Oh, no — no ! But, Ninon, oh, I do 
ask you to love me if you can, while I live, but I will 
no longer live a lie. You — you — are not my child ! 
Hush ! Hear me to the end. You are not of my blood. 
I found you fatherless and motherless and without a 
home, and I took you to my home and to my heart ; 
and before God, the one only pure joy of my life since 
that hour has been your love and 3^our dear voice. 
Ninon — your father was the man who fell in the forest 
by my hand. As true as Heaven, I meant not to harm 
him. He was angry and furious and fell through his 
own blindness. Oh, do not — do not hate me ! But — 
you know the truth. Now let Gideon de Bar do his 
worst. He may crush and ruin me, but you shall not 
suffer. Ah, I feel prouder in this hour than I have 
felt for years. Ninon, you are free from the villain’s 
wicked plot of marriage, and I will bear the conse- 


LEAVING THE SHADOW BEHIND CONCLUSION. 217 


quences. You will at least remember this to my 
credit.” 

Ninon’s thoughts flowed rapidly and clearly. In the 
midst of such wondrous things as were now crowding 
their effects upon her, she could not give way to over- 
powering emotion. She must hold herself strongly up 
for the great event for which Marius had gone to make 
preparation. A brief pause, during which the blood 
all left her face and came back again, and then she 
advanced and threw her arms around Sir Philip’s 
neck. 

“ Papa ! Oh, I will call you so always, for I know 
you have loved me, and I know you did not mean to 
harm my father — papa, I am glad you have had the 
courage to do what you have done. You have won my 
love forever. Oh, it was brave — it was grand — for you 
to offer yourself when you believed you could have 
given me as an acceptable offering. You were brave, 
papa, and by that deed you have won back everything. 
Louis is not dead. He is close at hand, with a force 
sufficient, with our own, to overcome Gideon de Bar 
and his men. And he says he will save you. He bids 
me tell you that the great burden of your life shall be 
lifted. Perhaps you know what he means.” 

But the marquis could not guess ; he could only 
press the dear girl to his bosom, and bless her for her 
noble heart and spirit. Truly, he had resolved to 
yield up his life rather than consign her to the misery 
of union with Gaston de Bar ; but if he could be 
rescued, and she be saved at the same time, it would 
be a blessing beyond compare — a blessing he had not 
dared to hope for. 

They stood thus, the marquis holding Ninon to his 
bosom, when Blanchette came in. She had been sent by 
the Mayor of Arras to summon them immediately to 


218 THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 

his presence. If they did not come to him, he must 
iind them wherever they might be. 

Now that he had resolved to pursue the only manly 
course, Sir Philip did not so much fear his enemy. 
Since he had resolved to surrender his life if necessary, 
he did not so much prize it above his honor ; and he 
was ready to go. 

But Ninon was the bravest, after all — perhaps, be- 
cause she had by far the most to hope for. 

“ Let us go/’ she said, “ and beard him where he 
stands. They cannot make me a wife against my will, 
and before he can wreak vengeance upon you, he must 
arrest you and carry you to Arras. Come — I do not 
fear him. Oh, Heaven speed my true lover !” 

They went down, hand in hand, to the library, 
Blanchette bearing them company, and there they 
found Gideon de Bar, his son Gaston, the Rev. Valen- 
tine de Tigny, and two officers of the National Guard, 
the latter to act as witnesses, either to the marriage or 
to any other matter which might be presented. 

Gaston’s eyes sparkled when he beheld the dazzling 
beauty. His father saw and understood. 

“ Ah, my boy,” the latter whispered, u what say you 
to that ?” 

“ It is stupendous. Let the marriage go on.” 

Gideon gently put the his son aside, and stepped before 
him, being in season to meet the marquis and his fair 
charge in the center of the apartment, where he bowed 
with one of the blandest of smiles, and then raised 
himself in the very grandest posture of self-sufficient 
dignity. 

'* My dear lady, it gives m^ the greatest, the su- 
premest and the most heart-moving pleasure to see 
you. I am glad you come looking so well. Your 
father has told you our errand ?” 


LEAVING THE SHADOW BEHIND — CONCLUSION. 219 


Ninon cast upon the man a look of scorn so intense 
and so entirely possessing- every feature of her mobile 
face, that he could not but see it. 

“ The marquis has told me,” she said, with proud 
defiance in her tones, “ the object of your visit ; and I 
have now to tell you that your errand will be fruitless 
— that is, if you think to make me the wife of your 
son.” 

For a brief space the dark-faced man stood like one 
not ready to credit the evidence of his own senses. 
He took a step back, gasped for breath, then gazed, 
first upon the girl before him, and then upon the mar- 
quis. 

“ How ?” he finally demanded, clutching his hands 
in the empty air. “ Do you refuse to give your hand 
to my son ?” 

“ Most emphatically and positively, yes, monsieur !” 

“ Philip d’ Artois,” the mayor shouted, turning upon 
the host a look of mingled rage and vengeance, “ do 
you submit to this ?” 

“ Gideon de Bar,” answered the marquis, with won- 
derful calmness, “ it was my own proposition. If you 
have vengeance to execute, let it fall upon me — not 
upon her. She objects to the match, and I shall not 
urge it.” 

De Bar literally frothed at the mouth. A few mo- 
ments he stood so beside himself with rage as to be 
unable to speak ; but at length he found his voice, and 
with a fierce oath and a stamp of the foot, he said : 

“ Poor fools ! You know not what a dreadful fate 
you are tempting. Had it been my pleasure, I could 
have had you at this moment where the Count Louis 
de Liancourt has finished his headstrong career. Girl, 
do you know where that man is ?” 

“ I can guess very nearly, sir.” 


220 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


The man started again, this time in simple astonish- 
ment. What did the. lady mean ? Certainly she had 
been told ; and if she had loved the count, how could 
she speak so calmly with the shadow of his terrible 
death still upon her ?” 

“ ‘ Can guess !’ ” he repeated. “ Y ou know that he has 
ended his life upon the guillotine ?” 

“ Not quite, my very excellent f riend !” pronounced a 
voice at the entrance. 

De Bar looked around, and saw — good heavens ! 
Could he believe his eyes — Count Louis de Liancourt ! 

Ninon saw, and flew to the embrace of her dear 
lover. 

The marquis saw, and with murmured thanks to 
Heaven, he extended his hand. 

“ Not quite, Gideon de Bar,” added the unexpected 
presence, with an arm around Ninon, and the other 
still in the possession of Sir Philip. “ I think you will 
admit that my own testimony, given in person, ought 
to be conclusive. No, no, my dear, good, most excel- 
lent friend ; though you did your best, yet still I am 
able to greet you once more.” 

De Bar was not more astonished than were his son 
and the two guardsmen. They had all been to Paris, 
and had been present in court when the count was con- 
demned to death. The meaning of what they saw was 
beyond their comprehension. They were inclined to 
think of necromancy and magic. They could think of 
nothing else. 

But Gideon had the most need of self-control, and he 
set his thoughts at work. Here was the prisoner of the 
Conciergerie free, and he simply knew that no such 
thing as pardon or reprieve had been granted. The 
count could be retaken. That could be done at any 
time, so long as he only now took the precaution to 


LEAVING THE SHADOW BEHIND CONCLUSION. 221 


keep an official eye upon him. His first need was to 
make sure of his hold upon the marquis, and, if 
possible, to yet shake the resolution of the maiden. 
With this end in view he drew a folded paper from his 
pocket — a pocket against his bosom — and turned with 
it to the noble host. The paper was old and soiled, and 
one of the soiled places — a broad, dismal smooch — was 
evidently of blood. 

“Philip d’Artois,” he said, “you behold this paper. 
You know its contents. If the hand of the Lady Ninon 
be not given to my son within the next ten minutes, 
this paper shall be given to the minister of justice. Do 
you know what that means ?” 

“ I know,” said the marquis, bravely, though he could 
not hide the painful stab at his heart, “ that in that 
paper is a lie, and though it may be made to weigh 
against me in the courts of men, I dare carry it to 
the eternal Tribunal, where every life must finally be 
judged.” 

“ Oho, you are growing brave, Sir Philip. But do 
you consider ? Think well what you do. Let me but 
whisper of the contents of the paper to the minister, 
and where is your head ?” 

The marquis gasped for breath and was about to 
speak, when Louis de Liancourt interposed. 

“ Gideon de Bar, that paper which you hold professes 
to be the dying declaration — the ante-mortem testimony 
— of Col. Juan de Saint Denis ?” 

“ It is the dying declaration of that unfortunate man,” 
retorted De Bar, furiously. 

“And its statement,” pursued Louis, very quietly, 
“ is that the said Juan de Saint Denis fell, mortally 
wounded, by the hand of Philip d ’Artois, Marquis of 
St. Omer and Baron of St. Jean ?” 

De Bar was surprised at the marvelous coolness with 


222 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


which a friend of the marquis dragged the contents of 
that paper to the light, but he evidently thought it 
could only be bravado, and he was not to be browbeaten. 

“ Aye/’ he responded, with intense malevolence of 
expression, “ and that the assassination was a premedi- 
tated deed, deliberately and wickedly accomplished !” 

“ Oh, Gideon de Bar, how can you look honest men 
in the face and thus swear away the character, and 
perhaps the life of an innocent fellow-being? You 
know that the whole thing is false from beginning to 
end. Silence ! Let me tell the story in my own way.” 

“ Go on, sir. I should be pleased to hear what you 
have to say.” 

“ I have this to say,” went on the count with rising 
voice and flashing eyes. “You had sworn that you 
would be revenged upon the man who had won for a 
wife the woman that you had dared love. Juan de 
Saint Denis had also loved that same woman, and he, 
too, was angry. About that time' Saint Denis, then in 
command of the citadel of Arras, had appropriated to 
his own use large sums of money belonging to govern- 
ment — he had gambled the money away — and for it he 
was dishonorably dismissed from the service, and his 
knightly rank torn from him. While he was smarting 
under the fell stroke, well-nigh insane with passion 
and fury, you went to him and told him that Philip 
d’ Artois had betrayed him to the officers of justice. 
Hold ! Hear me through ! You went to him and told 
him that, and you knew you were lying. You did, in 
truth, hate Saint Denis almost as bitterly as you hated 
D’ Artois. You feared them both, and so hated them 
both. You told to the colonel that falsehood, and then, 
while he was beside himself with passion, you concocted 
the scheme which you put in operation. Knowing 
Saint Denis to be one of the most expert swordsmen 


LEAVING THE SHADOW BEHIND CONCLUSION. 2$3 

in the kingdom, you proposed to him that he should 
lie in wait for Philip d’ Artois in the forest, and when 
he met him, that he should force him into combat. 
With his known skill he could hold Sir Philip at his 
mercy ; he could allow himself to be slightly wounded, 
and then pretend that the hurt was mortal. You, 
Gideon de Bar, were to be near at hand, but unseen. 
When you saw Saint Denis fall, you were to rush up, 
cry out that people were coming, push the marquis 
into hiding, and then kneel at the fallen man’s side, 
with paper, pen and ink in your possession, and write 
down what you pleased, as though it came from the 
lips of a dying man. 

“ And, Gideon de Bar, it was accomplished as you 
proposed. Juan de Saint Denis believed that Sir Philip 
had meanly betrayed him to ruin and disgrace, and, 
filled with wine and passion, he was ready for ven- 
geance. He had already planned to flee from his 
country, and you had promised, if he helped in the 
plot to a successful ending, that you would let him 
have the money. He met Philip d’ Artois in the deep 
wood ; he forced a quarrel upon him ; and by his 
supreme mastery of the sword he played with his 
antagonist as he pleased — and he was enabled to do 
this more easily as Sir Philip did not seek to harm 
him. Saint Denis fairly fell upon Philip’s point, and 
then sank down upon the sward. And then followed 
the miserable drama as you had planned. Holding the 
marquis in terror by pretending that many witnesses 
were coming, you forced him into hiding ; and in the 
end, when people were in truth advancing toward the 
spot, you told him if he would crawl away to his home 
and keep quiet, you would take care of the body and 
keep Jiis secret. 

“ Oh, wretch ! Wretch ! With what demoniac man- 


224 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


agement did you carry the work to its consummation ! 
By the promise of large sums of money, to enable 
Saint Denis to go and live abroad, you persuaded him 
to put on the habiliments of the grave, and to go into 
a coffin with his face whitened, that a sufficient num- 
ber of witnesses might see him there. Then you put 
a log of wood into that casket and fastened it up, and 
so buried it ; and while the funeral services in memory 
of Juan de Saint Denis were being performed, he him- 
self was on his way to Germany, leaving you to hold 
Sir Philip in the bondage of terror for your own base, 
inhuman purposes ; and leaving you, also, when Sir 
Philip had taken his — Juan’s — infant daughter to his 
home and his heart, and reared her, in beauty and 
goodness, to womanhood, to fix your evil eye upon 
her. 

“ Aye — and your sin ends not here. Oh, hear me 
through. I have but this single statement to make : 
When, at length, Juan de Saint Denis, having learned 
of your treachery in falsely declaring that Sir Philip 
had betrayed him, and of the love which that man 
bore to his child, and, furthermore, trusting that his 
misuse of the public money might be no longer laid up 
against him — when, under these circumstances, he ven- 
tured to return to his native country, you chanced to 
see him, and to know him, and fearing that his pres- 
ence might interfere with your grand scheme of ag- 
grandizement, you set hired assassins upon his track, 
and — ” 

Up to this point Gideon de Bar had been variously 
affected, and had allowed the narrator to hold him 
silent. He had been through all possible grades of 
fear and terror, but had not entirely lost the look 
of bold effrontery from his brazen face. Now, how- 
ever, he burst the self-imposed bonds, and stamped 


LEAVING THE SHADOW BEHIND CONCLUSION. 


225 


upon the floor with a force that shook the furni- 
ture. 

“ Liar ! Trickster ! Charlatan f For your own base 
treason you shall yet find your reward, but for the 
falsehoods you have here so glaringly strung together, 
I can only despise you. Your impudence is amazing ! 
From beginning to ending you have lied ! Lied ! 
Lied !” 

“ But I say, Gideon de Bar, that from beginning to 
ending he has told the truth !” 

At the sound of this strange voice, deep and strong 
and solemn, all eyes were turned to the entrance, 
where stood the man we have known as Rupert of 
Redwood. 

“ Aye, Gideon de Bar,” he added, as he advanced into 
the room, “ the count has spoken truth in every word, 
and has saved me the trouble of speaking a single word 
in explanation of my appearance.” 

“ Yes,” whispered Louis, in answer to a question from 
Ninon. “ He is truly your father. I have known it 
since he helped to save me from the death-grasp of 
the guillotine.” 

Juan de St. Denis — for now we may so know him — 
heard the remark and turned to the speakers. Ninon 
saw the light and the warmth of a great love in his 
handsome, manly face — oh, a face which she thought 
very beautiful — and under an impulse entirely invol- 
untary she took a step toward him and put out both 
her hands. 

“Oh, my child — my child ! You will divide your 
daughter’s love and give to me a part ?” 

“ My father ! Oh, my father !” 

And she returned his kiss and felt at home in his 
arms ; and Sir Philip was not pained. No — as the first 
surge of utter astoundment at the unexpected appear- 


226 THE SHADOW OE THE GUILLOTINE. 

ance of the man whom he had so long thought dead — 
and dead by his own hand — passed away — when he had 
assured himself that it was not an apparition, but a 
presence of flesh and blood that stood before him, with 
Ninon in his arms, a cry of gladness burst from his 
lips, and he started forward and grasped him by the 
hand. 

“Yes, Sir Philip, it is I, alive and in the flesh. At 
some future time I shall claim your forgiveness, but 
now we have other business, if I mistake not.” 

“Aye!” yelled Gideon de Bar, with a jump that 
shook the very walls. The effect upon him of St. 
Denis’s appearance had not been so astounding as it 
had been upon the marquis, for he had seen the man 
before, and had set upon him the two assassins from 
whose bludgeons Louis had rescued him. When he 
had heard the voice, and recognized the living man in 
the door- way, he had for a little time been fear-stricken 
and appalled ; but his senses had returned to him, and 
he still had power, he thought. 

“ Aye !” he yelled, as he leaped into the air, and 
came down with a crashing thud, “ you will find other 
business in plenty if /mistake not. Officers, behold 
two fugitives from the Conciergerie ! They have been 
tried and condemned — or, one has been, and the other 
should have been. Also, Philip d’Artois is traitor to 
the government of the Assembly ! They are your 
prisoners ! Gaston, you are Intendent of Police. Go 
and call the guards. Oho ! We shall see what manner 
of business we have on hand.” 

At this juncture Louis de Liancourt turned and 
whispered to Martin, who quietly slipped from the 
room, and on the next instant he drew his sword and 
put himself in the way of Gaston. 

“ No, no, Sir Intendent, it is not our pleasure that 


LEAVING THE SHADOW BEHIND — CONCLUSION. 227 


you should leave just yet. Pooh ! Do not draw your 
sword ! See — here are friends whom you might force 
into doing you an injury.” 

As the count spoke the large door communicating 
with the main hall was thrown open, and the lieuten- 
ant of the castle appeared, leading a full score of stout 
men, all thoroughly armed. 

“ Gaston de Bar,” our hero said, as his men came filing 
in by double column, “ the guardsmen whom you left 
without are in safe custody, securely ironed and locked 
up away from harm. You and your attendants are to 
be treated in like manner. You can surrender quietly, 
or you can force us to draw the sword !” 

Then to the lieutenent : 

“ Marius, there are your prisoners. You know your 
duty.” 

“ Oh, not me — not me !” cried the reverend hypocrite, 
quaking with terror. 

“ Only for a little while, my very good friend. We 
do not care to have you running at liberty just yet. Be 
quiet, and no harm shall come to you.” 

It was a bitter, oh, an agonizing pass for the Mayor 
of Arras and for his son ! Only one short hour before 
they had regarded themselves as lords paramount of 
St. Jean and St. Omer, and perhaps of Miremont and 
la Capelle ; and now what were they ? Oh, it was 
painful ! They cursed and swore, and the father vowed 
vengeance sufficient, could it have been executed, to 
have satisfied the maws of the Revolution. But there 
was no help for it. Resistance would be simple suicide. 
They were not anxious to throw their precious lives 
away, so, having been assured that no bodily harm 
should be inflicted upon them, they suffered themselves 
to be disarmed and led away. 

And thus, as the hammer of the great bell in the 


228 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


castle tower, answering to the onward motion of the 
clock, struck the hour of ten in the forenoon, Gideon de 
Bar and his posse, together with every man in and 
about the chateau who was not known to be loyal to 
the true master, were safely locked up beyond their 
power to escape until a friendly hand might set them 
free. Bread and water in plenty was furnished, and 
the lieutenant, as he closed the doors upon them, bade 
them make themselves at home. 

The next movement of Marius was destined to bring 
results not contemplated by him. Of course, a trust- 
worthy man must be left behind who, at the proper 
time, should set the Jacobin prisoners free ; and he 
must be one upon whom the irate rascals would not 
vent their spite. At first he had thought of a woman, 
but he chanced to remember that at the lodge of the 
porter was sojourning an old priest — uncle to the por- 
ter’s wife. His thought was thus directed by seeing 
the aged churchman slowly crossing one of the inner 
courts, and the moment he saw him, he marked him as 
the man he needed. He went out and explained to 
Father Trajan what was wanted, and the latter, with 
frank and cheerful humility, agreed to do the work re- 
quired ; and Marius led the priest into the keep to in- 
troduce him' to the company. 

They found the servants just bringing, or dragging, 
the four great chests of treasure into the hall. Louis 
had been informed of the wonderful discovery which 
Ninon had made, and had looked upon the marvelous 
wealth. The old story of the concealing of the treas- 
ure was familiar to him, but he had, with others, given 
the subject the go-by, believing, either that the whole 
thing was a myth, or that the buried wealth had been 
found long ago, and secretly carried away. However, 
here it was — it was all his own — a fortune greater by 


LEAVING THE SHADOW BEHIND CONCLUSION. 229 


far than any count of the later centuries had pos- 
sessed ; and it had come to him at a time when its 
value was a thousand times enhanced — the one thing 
needful to their comfort and support in a land of 
strangers. 

“ Really,” said the count, who had found tears well- 
ing up in view of this priceless blessing, “ can we doubt 
that the Good Father in Heaven has vouchsafed to us 
His especial care and protection ! Think of the events 
of the few past days. Is it not wonderful ? And here 
is our good Father Trajan. Is it not fitting, before we 
depart, that we should join with him in a devout ser- 
vice of thanksgiving to the Giver of all good !” 

“Yes,” said St. Denis, who had also seen the priest ; 
“ but before that service I propose another — one which 
I deem not only proper, but necessary. We wish to 
go hence fitly prepared for all the possibilities of the 
journey before us. There is one of our number who 
now owes a divided allegiance. This dear girl is in a 
quandary. I see it plainly. She knows not which of 
the two fathers she shall obey. Let us lift her into a 
new and blessed life, where love and duty shall find 
an object single and supreme, and where the rights of 
paternity can no longer clash. Sir Philip, what say 
you ?” 

“With all my heart, dear Juan. Yes, yes; so let 
it be.” 

No need to ask Louis de Liancourt ; no need to ask 
Ninon. For long years their hearts had been one, and 
now, very briefly, but yet formally and devoutly, the 
priest put their hands together, and spoke the magic 
words which made them one indeed, and for life. 

When the marquis moved forward to salute the 
newly-wedded pair, he was shaken by an emotion that 
convulsed his whole frame. Tears rolled down his 


230 


THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE. 


cheeks, and his lips quivered as the words dropped 
from them : 

“Oh, this is joy! Thank God, we are saved, and 
blessed hope leads the way before us !” 

There had been a busy whispering- away in one 
corner, and when the emotions had subsided which 
followed the praise-offering of the marquis, Martin 
Duval led Blanchette forward to her mistress. His 
plea was simple. In the land of strangers the dear 
girl would need a strong protector upon whom she 
could always depend. 

It was close upon the hour of noon when, under the 
direction of Marius, a score of horses were gathered in 
the court-yard, together with a stout tumbrel which 
had been used in former times for transporting muni- 
tions of war, and which was now brought into use for 
a purpose full as important. 

Twelve hours later the aged priest, with lantern and 
keys, went down into the great dungeon of the main 
tower and set free the Mayor of Arras and his com- 
panions, who returned home, and were safely housed 
from sight before daylight, a miserably forlorn and 
dejected crew. 

At about the same “hour that saw Gideon de Bar lock 
himself into his chamber, alone with his own wretched 
self, a brighter and more hopeful scene might have 
been viewed at a point on the Channel coast, where a 
small arm of the sea made up, under a bridge of logs, 
toward a humble, solitary cot. In the offing was a 
heavy lugger, with her broad sails set to a favorable 
breeze, and our old friend, Pierre Lefranc, in com- 
mand. “ Dear old uncle !” How proud Blanchette was 
of him in that hour ! 

Upon the lugger’s quarter-deck, with the first golden 
beams of the rising sun casting a halo about them, 


Leaving the shadow behind — conclusion. 231 


were gathered the principal personages of our story in 
whose welfare we have an interest. The Shadow of 
the Guillotine was behind them, and before them, 
beyond the swelling waters of the English Chan- 
nel, they knew they should find an asylum where peace 
and comfort and safety should be theirs. With hearts 
strong and true and with faith in the Eternal Good- 
ness, what more could they ask ? For themselves — 
nothing. For France they could but pray ! 

THE END. 



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GERTRUDE THE AMAZON 


A Romance of the First Crusade. 


BY 


SYLVANUS COBB, JR., 

Author of “ The Gunmaker of Moscow f etc., etc . 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


NEW YORK: 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 


PUBLISHERS. 




^ - 




COPYRIGHT, 1878 AND 1894, 
BY ROBERT BONNER’S SONS. 

(All rights reserved.) 








GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE CRUSADERS AT NICE OUR HERO. 

I T was toward the close of the eleventh century that 
the Christian chieftains of western Europe mar- 
shaled their forces for the First Crusade to the 
Holy Land, their sacred purpose being- to wrest the 
sepulcher of our Lord from the hands of the infidel 
Saracen. Starting from different points and at different 
times, it became necessary that they should fix upon 
some spot in the Orient where they could meet and 
unite, so that they might set forth together against the 
enemies of the risen Saviour. Constantinople, the capital 
of the Greek Empire, was the place selected, and there 
the Christian army assembled. In the emperor, Alexius 
Comnena, the crusaders had hoped to find a trusty 
friend and useful counselor ; but instead thereof they 
found him jealous, timid and even treacherous. With 
a smiling face and many fair promises, he sought to 
bend them to his own selfish and ambitious purposes ; 
and a few of them were more or less influenced by his 
subtle machination. He dared not openly assist the 

[235] 


236 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


crusaders, for fear of the Turks, who had more than 
once already besieged his capital ; but he would gladly 
have enlisted those powerful and gallant warriors into 
his imperial service and himself have gained the glory 
of conquest over the enemies of the cross. But his 
efforts availed nothing toward swerving the Christian 
knights from their purpose, though he did succeed in 
sowing the seed of discord and dissension among some 
of the very bravest of the western warriors — seed 
which was destined to bear bitter fruit to the noble 
knights for a long time thereafter. 

However, the winter wore away, and the Christian 
forces were at length assembled, their preparations all 
made for advance, and the whole army eager for battle. 
It was a grand sight which the watchmen upon the 
walls of Constantinople beheld, when that army of one 
hundred thousand horse and five hundred thousand 
foot-soldiers, with banners flying, spears glittering like 
a silver forest in the morning’s sun, bright armor flash- 
ing like ten thousand mirrors whirling sharp beams of 
light into the air ; the steel skull-caps stretching away 
like unto a broad sea, with its undulating bosom broken 
into half a million gleaming wavelets ; while upon the 
soft breeze came the stirring blast of many a brazen 
trumpet, blown forth with a zeal that sought to impart 
of itself to all who heard — a grand sight to the watch- 
men upon the wall, and to those who had climbed to 
top of rampart and tower, when that army set out upon 
its march for the Plain of Bithynia. 

And be it remembered that the Greeks, when they 
gazed upon those departing columns, were reviewing 
the very flower of Christian chivalry ; and as it is with 
these noble knights that we have to do in our story, 
let us know a few of them in the outset. 

There was Robert, Duke of Normandy, eldest son 


THE CRUSADERS AT NICE OUR HERO. 237 

of William the Conqueror, and with him were all the 
warlike knights and nobles of his Duchy. Then came 
another Robert, Count of Flanders, whose great wealth 
gained for him the title of “ The Lance and Sword ” 
of the Christians ; and in his pay were five hundred 
horse, and full five thousand foot, besides five thousand 
knights and nobles of his father’s realm, who joined 
his banner at their own expense. Next came Hugh, 
Prince of the Vermandois, and brother of Philip, King 
of France. One of the youngest of all the Christian 
knights, and the youngest, by some years, of the ruling 
chiefs, he was yet among the bravest of the brave, and 
never yet had he met the antagonist who had fairly 
overcome him. 

When the chiefs of the crusaders were assembled 
at Rome, preparatory to starting for the East, it was 
into Prince Hugh’s hands that the Roman Pontiff had 
given the Standard of the Church. It was a proud 
moment for the youthful crusader, when he was thus 
honored by Pope Urban above the other chieftains ; 
but even then the emotion of pride may have been 
tinged with sadness at the thought that his brethren 
in arms — some of them, at least — envied him for this 
honorable distinction. Aye, he saw it plainly, and it 
cut him to the heart ; for never found envy or malice 
a resting-place in his bosom. 

Another of the chiefs was Stephen, Count of Blois 
and Chartres, who owned in his own right as many 
stout and well-armed castles as there are days in the 
year ; andthe retinues of noble knights who followed 
his standard were in themselves a host. Next came 
Robert, Count of Paris, the knight who stood for a 
twelvemonth before the old church where three roads 
meet, waiting for an antagonist powerful enough to 
overthrow him, and found him not. 


238 


{JERTfttfbfi i'ME AMAZON. 


Of the Italians, there was the thrice noble Bohemond, 
Prince of Tarentum ; and there was the gallant Tan- 
fcred, Prince of Otranto. Another French knight, who 
itiight have been the leader of the whole army, but for 
his haughty pride and his unyielding obstinacy, was 
Raymond, Count of Thoulouse, who brought with him 
a hundred thousand crusaders, and whose three-score 
years sat as lightly upon his massive frame as had set 
the years of his youthful prime. With Count Raymond 
went Adhemar de Montiel, the bishop and spiritual 
leader of the crusade. 

And so we might go on to the end of the chapter 
with the names and estates of brave and gallant 
knights, whose deeds of prowess had filled gaping mul- 
titudes with wonder and delight, and whb nowled their 
esquires and men-at-arms across the plains of Bithynia ; 
but we will only notice three others, and we present 
them at this time because they are to play an important 
part in our story. There were three knights who kept 
near to the standard of Raymond of Thoulouse. Peter 
of Bourbon and Arnold de la Marche were brothers, 
and were among the best knights of the old count’s 
retinue. They were brave and reckless, and cotild be 
true when it was for their interest so to be. A boon 
companion of the brothers was Guiscard de Grillon, 
and a stouter knight than either of them. He was 
captain of twenty spears and two hundred foot. These 
three men were much together, and many there were 
among the crusaders who wondered what it was that 
kept them so busy in secret confab, and why they so 
often conversed as though fearful of being overheard. 
It was all to be known in good time. 

The city of Nice was the first place that attracted 
the attention of the crusaders. It was the capital of 
Bithynia, and the advance post of the Turks toward 


THE CRUSADERS AT NICE OUR HERO. 


239 


the Bosphorus ; and if the Christians would keep open 
the way for their supplies, it would have to be reduced. 
Kilidge-Arslan, the Sultan of Kouni, within whose 
dominion Nice was situated, in anticipation of the at- 
tack of the soldiers of the Cross, had caused the place 
to be strongly fortified ; and as nature had done much 
to the same end, the invaders found a difficult work be- 
fore them when they had reached the Bithynian capi- 
tal. High mountains defended the approach to it ; 
while to the west and south the waters of Lake Ascanius 
washed its ramparts, preserving to the inhabitants an 
easy communication with the sea. Ditches, deep and 
broad, filled with water from the mountain streams, 
surrounded the place on the north and east, the bridges 
of which could be quickly raised toward the walls. 
These walls were double, and were only wide enough 
for the passage of a chariot upon the top ; and they 
were protected by three hundred and seventy high 
towers of brick and stone. The garrison of the city 
was composed of the chosen men of the Turkish war- 
riors ; while the sultan himself, with an army of a hun- 
dred thousand soldiers, occupied the neighboring 
mountains, ready at any time to fall upon the flanks of 
the besiegers. 

A march of nearly one hundred miles brought the 
Christian army to the city of Nice ; and when it had 
been determined to besiege the place, the posts were 
selected and distributed to the care of the most trusted 
chiefs. The camp of the crusaders extended over a vast 
plain, intersected by rivulets which fell from the moun- 
tains. Fleets from Greece and Italy transported pro- 
visions, and kept the besiegers in a state of abundance. 
Each nation had its quarters, which they surrounded 
with palisades ; and a reliable historian has reckoned 
that of these nations there were nineteen differing in 


240 GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 

language and in manners and customs. In each quar- 
ter magnificent tents were raised to serve as churches, 
in which the warriors and their followers regularly as- 
sembled for the purpose of religious ceremonials. 
And when we remember that hundreds of the nobles 
had brought their wives and children with them, in 
anticipation of finding homes in the Holy Land, we can 
understand something of the life of the Christian 
camp. 

It was a beautiful spring morning, and the crusaders 
were resting from an unsuccessful attack upon the city. 
From all parts of the camp came the sound of clink- 
ing hammers, where the armorers were busy at their 
work, and the song of the careless soldier mingled 
with the solemn hymns of the worshipers ; while 
ever and anon a more startling sound awoke the air as 
doughty knights and esquires met at full tilt, in sport 
and in practice. 

On the outskirts of the French quarter stood an 
armed knight by the side of his horse. He was a gal- 
lant soldier, as his bearing gave ample token ; while 
the contour of body, as he there stood at ease, be- 
trayed great strength united with beauty and grace. 
His armor was of polished steel, the only ornaments 
being a few rare jewels set in the gorget, and the silver 
bars and tall white ostrich plumes of the helmet. His 
visor was raised, exposing a face of rare beauty ; the 
lower features cast in a mold as pure as the most 
zealous artist could wish, while the broad, full brow 
and the clear blue eyes betrayed soul and intellect far 
superior to the inner qualifications of the majority of 
his peers. The glossy nut-brown curls that clustered 
about the temples and escaped from the back-band of 
the casque, together with the condition of his armor 
and the exquisite trappings of his noble steed, would 


THE CRUSADERS AT NICE OUR HERO. 


241 


seem to signify that he was fond of dress and show ; 
and so he was ; but never gave he a single thought to 
the outer man until he was full sure that all was right 
within. If there were jewels in his gorget, be sure 
they were set in steel that no poor sword could pierce ; 
and if he wore silver bars upon his helm, depend upon 
it that beneath was a metal fit to turn the point of a 
heavy spear. Such was the Prince Hugh de Verman- 
dois, brother of Philip of France, and one of the best 
knights that ever stood beneath the standard of the 
Church. He was now in his five-and-twentieth year ; 
but as he had been closely practiced in arms since 
earliest boyhood, his limbs were as firm, and his muscles 
as fully and as toughly developed, as were most war- 
riors, in their prime. 

As Hugh stood by his horse with his right elbow 
resting upon the saddle and the hand supporting his 
head, he felt some one touch him upon the shoulder, 
and on turning, he beheld his faithful and well-beloved 
esquire, Walter de St. Valery. 

“ How now, my lord ? What means this prepara- 
tion ?” 

The esquire spoke with freedom, for he was of gentle 
birth, and had been the prince’s friend and companion 
from early youth ; and, moreover, knight and esquire 
were very nearly of the same age. 

“ What preparation ?” returned Hugh, seeming to 
exert himself to bring his mind to things present. 
“ Oho,” he continued, as he noticed the direction of 
Walter’s gaze, “you wonder at seeing me thus ac- 
coutered.” 

“ Aye, my lord. After the labors of yesterday, I had 
supposed that you would rest to-day.” 

“ Tush ! Walter, do you think I am a boy, that a 
flurry like that of yesterday should carry fatigue be- 


242 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


yond the sleep of a night ? No, no, I am as fresh as 
though I had not borne arms for a twelvemonth.” 

“ And have you a tilt to ride, Sir Hugh ?” 

“ No, good Walter. I am going out on an errand ; 
and while I am gone you must keep an eye upon my 
tent.” 

“ Going out ! Alone?” 

“ Yes. Why not?” 

“ Indeed, my lord, I think you are — ” 

“ What, good Walter ?” 

“ It is true, and I will speak it : I think you are rash 
and unwise. I do not wonder that you are sad and un- 
happy, and I blame you not for seeking solace in quiet 
meditation ; but you should not think of venturing be- 
yond the confines of our camp unattended. The Turks 
are in the mountains, and they lurk in every convenient 
hiding-place. And, furthermore, you know what Ray- 
mond and Bohemond have ordered.” 

“ ‘ Ordered,’ Walter ?” 

“ Touching the going forth of any of our knights be- 
yond the limits of the camp until Kilidge-Arslan and 
his infidel host have been disposed of.” 

“ In God’s name,” cried Hugh de Vermandois, setting 
the shaft of his lance upon the ground, and turning 
upon his esquire a flashing look, “ who are Raymond 
of Thoulouse and this Italian Bohemond, of Tarentum, 
that they should aspire to dictate to the brother of the 
king of France ? By my faith, it seemeth to me that 
good Robert of Normandy, with him of Flanders and 
myself, should rather say unto Raymond, thus and so. 
But — let it pass. Poor Raymond ! Oh, Walter, God 
knows I pity him ; aye, pity him, even though I suffer 
more than he.” 

“ My lord,” said Walter, his voice broken with love 
and sympathy, “ I know your heart ; and I wish others 


THE CRUSADERS At NICE — OUR HERO. 


m 


knew it as well ; but, alas, they do not, and you must 
beware.” 

“ Beware, Walter ?” 

“Aye, Sir Hugh. You have enemies ; and if they 
can find anything against you in appearance, be as- 
sured they will make the most of it. You can see for 
yourself how things are going on. There are six, at 
least, who aspire to lead the army, and you have spo- 
ken your mind so freely that two of the number have 
been set aside in consequence thereof ; and yet they 
remain leaders of heavy forces.” 

“ Who leads a better force than do I ?” 

“ Not one, my lord.” 

“ Then let each lead his own, and let God lead us 
all. As for myself, I bow not to mortal mandate while 
I am that mortal’s equal. But, good Walter, I will say 
to thee that when a leader is finally acknowledged, the 
the stout duke, Godfrey de Bouillon, will be that man.” 

The knight saw the troubled look of his well-tried 
friend, and, after a little reflection, he added, at the 
same time grasping his companion’s hand : 

“ Walter, I will tell you what I had thought never to 
speak to another — or, at least, not yet ; but I must have 
your promise that you will not repeat a syllable of what 
you now shall hear.” 

“ You have my solemn promise, my lord ; and I hold 
myself bound until you shall release me from the 
pledge.” 

“Then,” pursued Hugh, “listen: Yesterday, when 
I had gained the top of the outer wall, by the Tower of 
the Dragon, I saw our men dragging a female along 
upon the inner wall. I wondered much what it could 
mean. First, why a woman should have been in that 
exposed situation at all ; and second, why it should re- 
quire four men to drag her away. As I stood there 


244 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


and gazed, all other thoughts for the moment sus- 
pended by this strange scene, it suddenly flashed upon 
me that I never knew but one woman of so fair a form 
who could bear herself so stoutly. With this flash of 
thought upon my mind I cried out, and the woman 
turned her head. It was but a single instant, for they 
were descending as I shouted the note of alarm ; but 
in that instant I am sure I recognized the features of 
one whom we had thought dead — dead, and buried be- 
neath the waters of Epirus.” 

“ In God’s name, my master, say you so ?” 

“ Even so, Walter. When I beheld that beautiful 
face I was as one entirely separated from the battle, 
and I had started to find a place where I might o’er- 
leap the space betwixt the walls, when a score of stout 
Saracens came pouring out from the tower, and I was 
forced to give them the attention I had meant for 
another.” 

“ Aye,” cried Walter, with kindling eye, “ and I thank 
God that thousands of our soldiers beheld the feats of 
prowess you then and there performed. By my faith, 
'twas the most gallant thing that ever was. We all 
saw it — saw you stand alone against one-and-twenty of 
the enemy, for they were counted — saw you stand and 
beat down twelve of them with your double-bladed axe 
before Tancred came to your succor.” 

The knight could not be otherwise than pleased as his 
esquire thus recounted the deed of the previous day, 
and having thanked him for his honest sympathy, he 
set his lance, and gathered up the reins preparatory to 
mounting. 

“ Walter,” he said, “ should any ask you where is the 
Prince of Vermandois, you can answer them that you do 
not know, and that you may be forced to speak no false- 
hood, I will hold my course a secret even from you. 


THE CRUSADERS AT NICE — OUR HERO. 245 

But this much I will say : whither I go, only a single 
armed man may be permitted to set his foot at the 
same time. So, should I take a companion, my expe- 
dition must needs be bootless. I go to seek tidings of 
her whom we have long mourned as dead.” 

“ Will you seek entrance to the city, my lord ?” 

“ No. I shall seek in the mountains one who hath 
power to send his messengers whither it pleaseth 
him.” 

“ Ha ! The old man—” 

“ Hush ! Beware, Walter, how you breathe that 
name. Should mine enemies discover that I had used 
secret confab with Hashishin, their jealousy might 
find food for a meal that would burst them. I will re- 
turn this day. Adieu, my brother ; and look well to 
my affairs while I am gone.” 

And with this, Hugh of Vermandois vaulted to his 
saddle and cantered away at an easy pace over the 
plain. 



CHAPTER II. 

AN ADVENTURE ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

Prince Hugh had not ridden far before he was aware 
that two knights were following him, and from their 
movements he decided that their purpose was nothing 
more nor less than to keep an eye upon his outgoing. 
More than once our hero drew in his rein with the 
thought that he would face the hounds and demand 
their business, and if they gave him an evasive answer 
he would give them the lie in their faces, and fight 
them then and there. But this impulse was not long 
entertained. 

“ The curs !” he muttered to himself. “ I should but 
disgrace my sword to bedaub it with their blood.” 

And after a time he determined that he would try a 
stratagem against them, for, curs as they were, they 
must not be permitted to follow him. 

The mountains were now close at hand, the dark, 
dense line of forest casting its shadow across the way 
not twenty paces ahead of the horse and rider. Hugh 
turned in his saddle and saw that the pursuers were 
hurrying up, and without further hesitation he applied 
the spurs, and was quickly dashing away from view 
into one of the few passes that led through the forest 
[246J 



AN ADVENTURE ON THE MOUNTAIN. 


247 


to the mountain fastnesses. That this was not the path 
which he had originally intended to take w r as very evi- 
dent, as he had changed his course materially after he 
discovered the pursuing knights. However, he seemed 
well content with the change, if one might judge from 
the manner in which he plunged into the thick wood. 
He urged his horse on at the top of his speed, until he 
had reached a point where the path led around a pro- 
jecting spur of rock, and here he pulled up and dis- 
mounted. 

“ Now, good Dominic !” said the prince, patting the 
beast upon the neck, “ let us see how quiet we can be. 
Not a word, now — mind !” And the intelligent animal 
nodded his head, seeming to understand exactly what 
his master required. 

As quickly as possible Hugh made his way through 
the thick wildwood, his horse following close behind 
him, until he had reached a point where he would not 
be likely to be discovered by any one in the path. 

“ Hush !” 

This again to the horse, who gave another sign of as- 
sent, and who appeared to watch the path as eagerly 
as did his master, and they had not to wait a great 
while. Very soon they heard the tramp of coming 
horses, and presently the two knights who had followed 
our hero, came dashing up the path. 

“We must get him in sight before he reaches the 
mountain,” said Peter of Bourbon, as they brought 
their horses to a walk at the spur. 

“ Aye,” answered Arnold de la Marche. “Godsend 
that we may be able to fasten upon him a visit to the 
Turks !” 

It was with an effort that the brave and gallant 
prince refrained from exposing himself and casting the 
villainy of the two false knights into their faces ; but 


248 . 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


a cooler judgment prevailed, and he allowed them to 
pass on. 

Peter of Bourbon and Arnold dela Marche were the 
brothers of whom we have before spoken. They were 
stout warriors, and young, the elder being not more 
than five-and-thirty ; and Raymond of Thoulouse 
counted them among his best knights ; and there were 
others of the Christian chieftains who held them in 
high esteem. And, in truth, they had already won for 
themselves much fame beneath the walls of Nice, 
where they had displayed prodigies of valor. That 
they bore enmity to the youthful prince none of the 
crusaders knew save the parties interested, together 
with one or two particular friends. Peculiar circum- 
stances laid upon Hugh the necessity of making no 
public show of his discovery of the treachery of these 
knights ; but he did not mean that it should long be so. 
A certain work he had to do, and then it would be time 
to call his enemies to an account. One reason why he 
could not, with propriety, take present notice of this 
matter was, that Guiscard de Grillon, Raymond’s chief 
captain, was leagued against him ; and just now he 
could not bring himself into contact with the old count. 

Hugh waited until the two knights had gained a 
goodly distance, when he led his horse back into the 
path, and having remounted, he rode out from the 
wood, and sought another entrance half a league to 
the northward — the entrance toward which his*steps 
had been directed when he discovered his pursuers. 
Once in the true path he pushed on without fear of 
the Bourbon brothers, for his present course lay toward 
a different mountain from that to be reached by the 
former pass. 

While the path was level and free the prince rode 
on at a round gallop ; but as he began to ascend the 


AN ADVENTURE ON THE MOUNTAIN. 249 

mountain, he took a more moderate pace, until finally 
his beast came to a walk. It was a path he had never 
before travelled ; but one who knew it well had mapped 
it out for him upon the floor of his tent, and thus far 
he had found it almost as familiar as^ though he had 
known it from actual sight. 

“ Courage, my-Dominic,” he said, patting his horse 
upon the neck. “ The table cannot be far away. If 
our guide told us truly, we must be almost there. Ha, 
what now ? By my faith that smacks of battle !” 

He had turned at an abrupt angle around a huge 
mass of rock while talking with his horse, and as he 
entered upon a wider track the sound of clashing steel 
and voices pitched to fierce invective fell upon his ear. 
For an instant he drew in his rein, partly to listen 
and partly to consider. 

“ ’Fore God !” he muttered to himself, “ I hear the 
cry of the infidel Turk, and his enemy must be a friend 
to me ; and who knows that it may not be a friend in 
need ? God help the right !” 

And thus speaking he lifted his spear from its socket, 
and having brought it to a charge, he put spurs to his 
horse and dashed up the rough acclivity. A few sweep- 
ing bounds of his powerful charger brought the prince 
to the table of which he had been told. It was a broad, 
level surface of rock, broken here and there by gentle 
undulations, affording ample room for the maneuvering 
of ten thousand men. To the right, close by where a 
prodigious wall of granite arose, like the solid battle- 
ment of a castle, our hero beheld the combatants, and 
it required but a very few seconds for his practiced eye 
to take in the situation of the battle. 

Upon the rocky ground lay nearly a score of dead 
and dying, while nearly as many more were on foot 
and engaged in the fray. The chief figure of the 


2o0 


fiERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


group, and that which sent a thrill to our hero’s heart 
when he discovered it, was an old man, whose hair and 
beard, white as the driven snow, fell low down over his 
shoulders and breast. He was habited in a long pur- 
ple robe, confined at the waist by a belt of pure gold, 
in which was stuck a small dagger. In his hands he 
bore a stout staff, upon which he leaned heavily, as 
though his strength were failing. Gathered around 
him were six youthful warriors, clad in leathern armor, 
each armed with a heavy sword, and fighting with a 
zeal and fury which was wonderful, considering that 
they had fought a long time, and that they were bleed- 
ing from many wounds. Opposed to this little band 
of devoted life guardsmen were fourteen stout Turks, 
most of them as yet unwounded. Of the dead there were 
two Turks for each one of the Ismaelians, for Hugh 
had very quickly determined that the white-haired 
patriarch was the Old Man of the Mountain, whom he 
sought, and that those who so bravely defended him 
were his Ismaelian guards, or Fddais. He knew that 
the Seljoucide Turks hated the Old Man (Hashishin), 
and feared his influence. He was, like them, a follower 
of Mahomet, but of a different sect ; and as he was now 
multiplying the number of his converts, the Seljou- 
cides trembled lest he should, in time, entirely over- 
come them. 

Not more than a dozen times did the heart of the 
crusader beat its heavy throbs after he had come into 
full view of this affair, before he had decided that he 
would go to the help of those brave and bleeding 
guardsmen, who were thus covering with their lives 
the body of their beloved master. Slipping from his 
saddle, he cast down the lance and drew forth his 
ponderous ax from its beckets, and shouting aloud his 
battle-cry, he hastened forward. 


AN ADVENTURE ON THE MOUNTAIN. 


251 


For a few moments the appearance of the Christian 
knight upon the scene caused a suspension of hostil- 
ities ; but when it was found he had come to mingle 
in the fray, the Turks made a disposition of their forces 
which they thought would meet the emergency. Six 
of their number turned their attention to the new- 
comer, while the other eight again set upon the faint- 
ing Feda'is. But this did not suit the crusader, for he 
saw that while he was dealing with these six, their 
companions might reach the old man, and he felt, for 
a time, a remarkable interest in the fate of that re- 
nowned individual. 

“ God save the right !” shouted the prince, as with a 
blow of his ax he felled the man immediately before 
him, and then leaped to the van of the guardsmen and 
gave himself as a cover for Hashishin. With the 
small circular buckler firmly fixed upon his left forearm, 
he raised his ponderous axe and waited for the onset. 

And he had not to wait a great while. The cru- 
sader’s last movement had taken the Turks so by sur- 
prise, that for half a minute or so they had drawn back, 
as though to assure themselves that he was really 
alone — that they did not gaze upon an enchanted 
armor, which, like the wooden horse, might open and 
set free a full company of armed men. But they were 
soon satisfied that only a single weapon had been 
added against them, and with a confident shout they 
advanced. 

“Allah! II Allah! Hu-hu-u /” was the war-cry, 
and while yet the last syllable, much prolonged in ut- 
terance, hung upon their lips, at least a dozen of them 
had raised their sharp scimiters against the Christian ; 
but they had quickly to find that the work they had 
undertaken was neither an easy nor a safe one. Nearly 
all parts of the knight’s body were protected by his 


252 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


finely-tempered armor, and those few necessarily ex- 
posed places, where a sword-point might have been 
thrust home, were covered by the buckler. And that 
gleaming buckler seemed to be endowed with thought 
of its own. Let the blows come never so thick, and in 
succession like flashes of light, the buckler was sure to 
be where the blow was to fall ; and yet, all the while, 
the mind of the knight gave direction to the ponderous 
axe, which the right arm swayed as though it had been 
a mere toy. 

Those unsophisticated sons of Islam had never be- 
fore met a Frankish knight in full armor, and when 
they beheld that trenchant ax, now dripping with gore, 
flashing to and fro with an impetus which no weapon 
they ever wielded could check or overcome, they began 
to lose their ardor and show signs of falling back. One, 
two, three, four of their number fell with the first four 
sweeps of the terrible weapon. Here once more upon 
the right ; and next, a stout Turk who had thought to 
leap around upon the left and thus reach the Old Man 
of the Mountain, fell with his head cloven from crown 
to chine. 

“ God for the right !” shouted the crusader, dashing 
on to the second charge. 

“Allah, il Allah , hu-hu-u /” answered one of the 
seven remaining Turks. 

‘‘Saint Michael to the rescue!” cried Hugh, as he 
split the head of the foremost of his enemies. 

In some respects the conflict was a one-sided affair 
from the first ; and the advantage upon the side of the 
single man at that. The Turks were armed only with 
light scimiters, having cast away all their javelins in 
another part of the field before the Christian knight 
came upon the scene ; and opposed thus to the iron- 
handed prince of France, they were as so many men of 


AN ADVENTURE ON THE MOUNTAIN. 


253 


straw — not much better, at all events. With a might 
that knew no fatigue, the right arm bore death upon 
the blade of the sweeping ax ; while the left arm, with 
thought of its own, held the invulnerable buckler ever 
ready to take the blows of the opposing blades. 

“ Fools,” muttered Hugh, when he had thinned the 
enemy down to five able men, “ do you think to stand 
against a knight who has held his own with six axes 
showering their blows upon him ? Take to your heels 
and fly while your legs have strength to carry you !” 

Three of the Ismaelians were now by Hugh’s side, 
and together they pressed the remaining Turks back 
toward the perpendicular wall of rock which arose to 
the right of the way by which the crusader had come 
up. Had these fellows turned to flee, they might have 
got off with their lives ; but they fought as they re- 
treated, and when they reached the face of the preci- 
pice only two of the number were left. The prince 
had lowered his ax for the purpose of giving the pant- 
ing Moslems an opportunity to surrender, when a loud 
cry from one of the F(?dais behind him attracted his at- 
tention ; and, upon turning, he saw the fellow rushing 
toward him, and at the same time making a wild gestic- 
ulation, as though to call his attention to something 
above him. 

A sense of danger flashed upon the knight, and as he 
started back for the purpose of looking upward, the two 
Turks darted toward him with their scimiters raised. 

“Fools!” said Hugh, derisively, “if you are so 
anxious to die, I ’ll help you to your choice.” 

He had stricken down the Turk nearest to him and 
had caught the blade of the second upon his buckler, 
when a dull, whirring sound struck his ear, and on the 
next instant the Moslem before him fell to the earth, 
crushed by an enormous fragment of rock ! 


254 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


The truth was quickly apparent to our hero’s mind. 
That rock had been meant for him. One or more of 
the Turks who had been wounded by the Ismaelians 
had crawled up to the brow of the precipice for the 
purpose of hurling down destruction upon the head of 
the enemy, and to that end the crusader had been led 
to advance in that direction. He saw it all, and though 
this first missile had crushed a friend instead of a 
foe, yet there was no telling how quickly another 
deadly messenger might come crashing down. 

It was but a moment — only a brief moment — from 
the coming of the rock to the conclusion at which the 
prince had arrived, but that moment was freighted 
with wondrous consequence. Another cry from the 
guards, loud, quick and full of alarm, caused him to 
look upward. And that cry, meant to save him, was 
the means of his fall. At the very moment when it 
broke the air, Hugh had lifted his left foot for the pur- 
pose of stepping backward, and had he done so he 
would have been safe, but the cry, as we have said, 
caused him to look up, and in doing so he stopped. 
Again that whirring sound — a blur came before his 
eyes — an instinct of mortal danger — and as he lowered 
his head with the idea of crouching away from the evil 
thing, the crash came. He knew that something fell 
upon him — something that touched him as with a bolt 
from the thunder of heaven, crushing him down with- 
out pain, and bending him to the earth. He knew that 
some one spoke in his ear, and that strong hands lifted 
his head and worked upon the lashings of his casque. 
Then came a bright gleaming, as of a thousand flash- 
ing tapers — a whirl of the brain — the light drawn into 
circles, revolving with blinding brilliancy— and then 
came darkness and— that was all. He knew no 


more. 



CHAPTER III. 

A MOUNTAIN PARADISE. 

The Prince de Vermandois dreamed. Gertrude of 
Thoulouse had given him her hand, and the day for 
marriage had been fixed. All their enemies had been 
conquered, and only friends were left to bend the knee 
before them. Philip of France and the old Count Ray- 
mond, the bride’s father, had united their purses and 
bought for the happy pair a castle whose surroundings 
made it a fit type of paradise. Amid flowers of rarest 
beauty and most ravishing perfume the lovers wan- 
dered hand in hand, while the feathered songsters 
warbled forth in answer to their words of love, such 
music as the devout believer fancies shall bless the 
ears of the redeemed in heaven. They were walking 
thus one bright and lovely day, conversing of the bliss 
in store for them, when, as they turned at the angle of 
an elaborately adorned fountain, the earth opened 
before them, and a genie of horrible aspect arose and 
stopped them. 

“ What now ?” demanded the prince, laying his hand 
upon the hilt of his sword. “ Wherefore this unseemly 
intrusion ?” 

“ I have come,” answered the immortal, “ to bid you 

[255] 


256 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


beware of your enemies. They are not crushed, as you 
think. Many a dark and dreary day shall cast its bur- 
den of sorrows upon you ere your hands can be united 
as you have planned. Beware of the Bourbon !” 

The prince started forward to detain the genie, and 
in so doing he awoke. He opened his eyes and gazed 
upward, and he beheld what he supposed was the 
vault of heaven, with bright stars gleaming softly upon 
him. Where was he? What had happened ? Without 
moving he reclosed his eyes, and called his thoughts 
to his aid. 

His dream gave him the starting-point, and he 
fancied himself in France. No, he had left his native 
land, and had joined with the Christian army that had 
set forth for the conquest of Palestine. He remem- 
bered the passage to Italy — the stop at Rome — the 
sailing thence in a ship, and the awful wreck upon the 
coast of Epirus. Then he remembered how the emis- 
saries of the Greek Emperor had conducted him to 
Constantinople — how he had remained there through 
the wet season — how he had marched with his com- 
panions-in-arms for Nice — how they had encamped 
beneath the walls of that city — and how the work of 
battle had been already commenced. Then he went 
on to other incidents. He remembered the face he had 
seen upon the walls of the besieged city ; and then, 
like a flash, came a remembrance of his journey into 
the forest — his escape by stratagem from the knights 
who had followed him — his meeting with the Old Man 
of the Mountain — and of the conflict which had fol- 
lowed, together with the hurling of the rocks from the 
summit of the frowning precipice. He remembered 
that he had been stricken down by one of those pon- 
derous fragments, and that was the last. He strained 
his thought to the utmost, but nothing could he call to 


A MOUNTAIN PARADISE. 


257 


mind since that terrific crash, until the dream in the 
midst of which he had awakened. 

“ Am I still living on the earth,” he soliloquized, in 
whispered words, “ or have I passed over the dark gulf 
and landed upon the shores of the world unseen by 
mortal eyes ?” When he remembered how the Turk 
had been crushed by the first rock that fell, and when 
he also remembered how the second had struck him full 
upon the head, he thought it more than doubtful if he 
were still left an inhabitant of earth. 

Hark ! There was a sound as of a gentle breeze 
murmuring through lightly-hanging foliage, and min- 
gling with it, in delicious harmony, came the voices of 
birds tuned to music enrapturing and divine. And the 
other senses were delighted as well. He now realized 
that the air he breathed was perfumed with odors at 
once sweet and invigorating, and that an ethereal soft- 
ness pervaded it, so that he seemed rather floating in 
a celestial atmosphere than resting upon a mortal 
couch. 

Again he opened his eyes, and after gazing until his 
vision was under control, he discovered that what he 
had taken for the star-decked heavens was an azure 
canopy of silk, studded with stars of gold and precious 
stofies. Yes ; it was a canopy of material fabric, and 
he felt that he was lying upon a downy bed. But how 
was it that he felt no pain ? He moved his limbs and 
he turned his body from side to side. There was a 
sort of dozy languor pervading his system ; but no 
ache, no pain, no stiffness. 

“ Surely,” he said to himself, “ this cannot be earth. 
No, no ; I should suffer were I in my natural body.” 

These words were the first which he had spoken 
aloud, and as he ceased he fancied that he heard a gen- 
tle rustling near his side. He turned over and looked 


258 GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 

in that direction, and his gaze was met by a scene that 
thrilled him to the soul with enrapturing sense. Two 
females had just arisen from a seat by the side of his 
couch, and were moving away. He saw their faces, 
and he thought that never had earth given life to such 
seraphic loveliness. No eastern enthusiast, picturing 
the paradise of the blessed, had ever conceived an ideal 
half so beautiful as was this that now appeared to the 
prince’s bewildered sense. With faces of transcendent 
beauty were united forms as fair and graceful as ever 
the most favored of the fabled Peri wore. With a 
quick movement, the prince started to a sitting pos- 
ture, and stretched forth his hand ; but the fairy forms 
had vanished. He made sure that the beatific vision 
had really faded away, and then, finding that he re- 
tained his upright posture without difficulty, he gazed 
around. 

Our hero found himself to be in a pavilion, the fur- 
niture and the hangings of which were sumptuous be- 
yond anything he had ever before seen — aye, his most 
vivid imagination had never conceived anything to 
compare with it. He had heard of an Oriental mag- 
nificence which he had always treated as fabulous, but 
it was no fable now — no fable unless this were Elysium 
and he had been translated to the immortal shores. 
Beyond an opening in the silken curtains he saw a 
passage, and further on were flowers and green leaves, 
and he now discovered that the perfumed air and the 
songs of the birds came in from that direction. 

Finding himself alone, the prince resolved to arise 
and explore the mysteries beyond the door of the pa- 
vilion. As he stood upon the soft carpet that covered 
the floor he found his limbs not so strong as was their 
wont, but he moved without difficulty and without 
pain. The garments that covered his body were such 


A MOUNTAIN PARADISE. 


259 


as he had never worn before. The underclothes were 
of the finest linen, soft as beaten silk ; the vest was of 
the rarest silk, changing- from gold to green as the 
light played upon its varying surface. At his feet he 
saw a pair of velvet slippers, which he drew on, and 
next he discovered, thrown across the foot of his couch, 
a robe of purple velvet, adorned with gold and silver 
in patterns like unto those upon the vest. So he knew 
the robe was a part of his dress, and he proceeded to 
put it on. 

Thus prepared, the prince went out through the 
flowery passage and his heart bounded with grateful 
emotion as he found that his limbs began to feel 
stronger the moment they were put in motion. When 
he had gained an open space beyond the walls of the 
pavilion, he found himself in a garden exactly like that 
of which he had dreamed. The walks were of pure 
white marble, the flowers were of the most fragrant 
and regal kind, sending forth a perfume that enchanted 
the senses ; the trees and the shrubs were of perfect 
symmetry, some bearing blossoms like pearls, with 
leaves of silver and gold, while others hung heavy with 
fruit of every conceivable kind. Hugh had gone but a 
short distance, gazing enraptured upcm everything he 
saw, when he espied a tiny fountain beneath a pile of 
marble statuary, which attracted his attention from the 
golden color of the water that flowed therefrom. When 
he reached the place, his senses were saluted by a new 
perfume — an aromatic fragrance— that seemed to 
inspire him with new life and vigor. The fountain 
was a rare piece of sculptural art. A female was 
pouring grapes from a basket into a funnel, below 
which were two stout rollers, with a crank at- 
tached, at which worked a gleeful boy, with wings like 
Bros. The woman, the grapes, the basket, the funnel* 


260 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


the rollers and the laughing boy were of finest marble, 
and cut with most exquisite taste and skill. But what 
was the tiny golden stream which flowed from the 
spout beneath the Cupid’s rollers ? And whence that 
invigorating aroma which so ravished the senses ? 

Hugh was thus wondering when he discovered a 
small cup of burnished gold suspended from the arm 
of the grape gatherer by a chain of the same precious 
metal ; he took the cup, and having filled it at the 
fount, he raised it to his lips. 

Eureka ! If the aroma had given delight to the sense 
of smell, how much greater was the delight imparted 
to the whole inner man by the first draught ! What 
our hero had supposed to be a golden hued water, 
taking its color from the earth through which it was 
distilled, proved to be the most delicious wine he ever 
tasted ; and while he was wondering upon the seem- 
ing miracle, a hand was laid lightly upon his shoulder 
and a musical voice, said : 

“ Allah be praised for his goodness !” 

The knight turned and beheld the same old man 
whom he had seen upon the table of the mountain, and 
whom, as he hajd then believed, he believed now to be 
none other than Hashishin, the renowned chief of the 
Ismaelians, or Assassins. His robe was now of black 
silk, secured at the waist by a belt of gold, richly 
studded with precious stones ; and his snow-white 
beard and hair, floating over his breast and shoulders 
in graceful waves, not only gave him a most venerable 
look, but, combined with the stately form, the broad 
and massive brow and the intellectual fire of the full 
bright gray eyes, it inspired the beholder with awe 
and reverence. 

“Aye,” answered the Christian, to the old man’s 
salutation ; “ and unless my belief plays me false, I 


A MOUNTAIN PARADISE. 


261 


have reason to cry : ‘ Praise be to Hashishin for his 
care and kindness !’ Am I not right !” 

“ I suppose I should cry in return : ‘ Praise be to the 
Christian knight f'or his saving will and might !’ 
Would I be right ?” 

“As for that,” said the prince, with a blush, “ I like 
not to decide upon the estimate of my own merits. And 
yet I must admit that, had I not reached you as I did, 
the Turks would have overcome your guards.” 

“Yes,” added Hashishin, with a shudder; “ and I 
should have been a prisoner in the hands of Kilidge- 
Arslan — a fate ten thousand times worse than death. 
But we will not converse here. Let us return to the 
pavilion you have left. You have had exercise enough 
for this first effort.” 

And while they proceed to the pavilion, the reader 
shall learn something of the character and standing of 
this Old Man of the Mountain. 

Hashishin, as he was called by the crits?ders, but 
whose true name was Hassan ben Saba, was a de- 
scendant of the prophet and, having been initiated into 
a secret society at Bagdad, he worked his way to its 
head, and at length gained absolute control over the 
whole wondrous piece of human machinery. He was 
a follower of Islam, but despised the established church 
of the Mohammedans, claiming himself to be the reposi- 
tory of the only true and saving grace. In time he as- 
sembled around him a hundred thousand blind fol- 
lowers, becoming a power before which kings and 
princes trembled, and to whom the most favored rulers 
of the Levant were glad to pay tribute, upon the assur- 
ance of personal safety. He divided his people into 
three classes : The husbandmen, who cultivated the 
soil ; the soldiers, who not only fought for him, but 
who also lent their services for hire toother provinces; 


262 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


and the Fcda'is or guards. These last were by far the 
most important and favored of his followers. They 
were young men, trained up from childhood in the use 
of arms, and taught to believe that their master held 
the keys of Paradise, and that he could admit them to 
the realms of the blessed at any moment ; and so all 
his followers were taught. But in the finishing of the 
education of these guards or, rather, in their final in- 
itiation, there was a ceremony as inspiring as it was 
strange and peculiar. 

When the neophyte had been pronounced by his 
teachers fit to bear arms in the service required at his 
hands, Hashishin led him up to a dark and dreary cave 
upon the mountain side, where be conversed with him 
upon the subjects about which he had been studying. 
The chief was a keen and quick judge of character, and 
he readily decided whether the youth before him was 
of the right sort of stuff. 

“ My son,” the old man would say when about to 
leave, “ you are to spend the night here alone, and ere 
the morning dawns it shall be decided whether you are 
fit at heart for the service you seek. If Allah sees in 
you the faithful servant, you will this night be 
admitted to Paradise. If, before the morning you gain 
no glimpse of heaven, you may go your way, for it is 
known that you are not worthy. Here are provisions, and 
your sword is by your side, so you have nothing to fear.” 

And thus speaking the chief went away and the 
neophyte was left alone. 

With both food and drink had been mixed a powerful 
opiate ; and as the youth had been kept all day with- 
out food, he would be sure to eat. Once in a very long 
time it happened that Hashishin had decided not to 
admit the candidate to the honors of the Fddais , and if 
so, the disappointed youth simply found himself in the 


A MOUNTAIN PARADISE. 


263 

\ 

morning where he had just fallen asleep, having gained 
no glimpse of Paradise; and with a sad and heavy 
heart he descended the mountain to take his place 
among the soldiers, never dreaming that his chief was 
responsible for his failure. The successful candidate, 
however, met with a different fate. As soon as he had 
fallen asleep under the influence of the opiate, he was 
taken by trusty slaves and borne away to a beautiful 
garden, where his garments were removed, his body 
washed with perfumed waters, and a rich garb put on 
in place of that which had been taken off. If, in the 
morning, he did not awake of his own accord, he was 
aroused by one or more of the beautiful maidens who 
presided over the place ; and when he finally arose and 
gazed around him, he felt he was, indeed, in Paradise. 

Our Christian knight was even nowin one of those 
gardens —an earthly paradise, built in an elevated val- 
ley, and so guarded by nature and art, that no human 
being, unacquainted with the secret, could either make 
his way in or out. Here the enraptured youth was 
allowed to spend the day, wandering from bower to 
bower, his senses bewildered by the enchanting loveli- 
ness everywhere present, while virgins, more beautiful 
than he had ever seen on earth, hovered around him, 
desiring to serve him, and singing or conversing, as he 
might choose. At different points artificial fountains 
were set up, made to run with wine, milk, honey and 
other delicious beverages; so that, in the midst of all 
these wonders, the enraptured youth was as one be- 
side himself with utter delight. When evening came 
another sleeping potion was administered, and as soon 
as it had taken effect his own garments were restored 
to his body, and he was borne back to the cave whence 
he had been taken. When the youth next awoke he 
found Hashishin sitting by his side. 


264 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


“Allah be praised !” the old man would cry. “ I came 
hither and found your body cold and lifeless, like a 
thing dead. I knew that the spirit had fled, and I won- 
dered if it would come back. My son, what have you 
seen ?” 

And when the neophyte had described the enchant- 
ing beauties of the paradise he had visited, his chief 
took him by the hand, and blessed him'; and from that 
hour the guardsman firmly believed that the moment 
he died in his master’s service his soul would ascend 
again to the celestial abode, there to remain forever ! 
If he died a natural death, he would be delayed at the 
bar of purgatory, perhaps for an age ; but if he fell in 
the service of his chief the passage to the realms of 
bliss would be instantaneous, his name being already 
enrolled among the favored few who had been per- 
mitted to visit the Garden of God while yet in the 
flesh. 

And now suppose the Old Man of the Mountains 
should say to one, or more, of his guards : “ Go ye, and 
kill for me the Sultan of Roum !” What cared the 
servant for the consequences ? If he fails to do his 
duty, through fear or negligence, he will never go to 
heaven ; but if he tries to do the work and is slain, 
paradise is his at once. 

Truly, a wonderful man was the chief of the Assas- 
sins ; and his friendship was most valuable, as his 
enmity was dangerous and deadly. 

And Hugh of Vermandois had sought this wonder- 
ful man, in the hope that he might enlist his sympathy 
in his behalf. Something of more than passing mo- 
ment must it have been that could have called this 
purpose to the Christian’s mind ; for there was danger 
in the companionship, as the impulsive prince was yet 
to learn — aye, to learn at a most fearful cost ! 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE STORY OF HUGH’S LOVE. 

When the Old Man of the Mountain and his guest 
had reached the pavilion, the former touched a small 
silver bell, the liquid tones of which quickly brought a 
black slave to answer the summons. Not a word was 
spoken. The slave appeared and knelt before his mas- 
ter, and having received an order, given by a few quick 
motions of the hand, he disappeared, and soon returned 
bearing a golden tray, upon which were such delicate 
refreshments as might tempt the most sluggish appe- 
tite, and which might yet be borne by the most delicate 
stomach. Hashishin set the example, which Hugh 
was not slow to follow ; and when they had eaten and 
drunk, the tray was removed, and the host signified 
that he was ready to listen. 

“ Good father,” said our hero, coming at once to the 
subject which was uppermost in his mind, in that it 
puzzled him, “ I am at a loss to understand how it is 
that I feel no pain. You saw me when I fell ?” 

The old man nodded. 

“ And the rock struck me upon the head — a rock as 
large as that which crushed the Turk to death ?” 

The listener nodded again. 

“ Then whence this freedom from pain — this whole- 

[265] 


266 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


ness of body, as though no such accident had befallen 
me ? By what miracle have I been saved ?” 

“It has been no miracle, my son,” replied Hash- 
ishin, with a kindly smile. “ In the first place, your 
stout armor broke the force of the blow ; and the state 
of insensibility which followed was rather the result of 
a terrible shock to the whole system than of any seri- 
ous injury to the skull. When you fell our enemies 
were overcome ; for those two who had made their way 
to the top of the precipice had been seriously wounded 
before you came up ; so all we had to do was to bring 
you hither as quickly as possible, which we did upon 
the back of your own horse. When we had gained this 
shelter I caused your body to be stripped, and after 
careful examination I found that no bones were bro- 
ken, though the whole body had received a strain 
which would be serious if not properly attended to. 
Your limbs had begun already to swell, and I knew if 
you recovered your senses while in that situation your 
pain would be most excruciating. So I watched you 
narrowly, and when I suspected that your senses were 
about to open I administered a powerful but harmless 
opiate ; and under the influence of that opiate you 
have been kept, while the utmost exertions of care and 
skill have been expended upon your body. Lotions, 
the virtues of which are almost magical, have been 
freely applied, and six black slaves have been busy, 
day and night, rubbing your skin. The passes of the 
hand have been always made in one direction — from 
the centers of sense outward — and thus I can assure 
you much of your pain has been carried away. You 
may smile, vSir Knight ; but I assure you I have a 
slave — and he has been in constant attendance upon 
you — the touch of whose hand can cure disease ; not 
all disease, but certain forms. However, you are well, 


THE STORY OE HOGh’s ROVE. 


26 ? 


and you owe most of your escape from pain to the 
slave of whom I speak. I have seen him turn from 
three hours’ work upon your body with his hands so 
pained and swollen that he could hardly move them.” 

“God bless the man !” cried Hugh. “ How can I re- 
pay him ?” 

“ I will tell him that you have blessed him, and that 
will be pay enough. But be sure he is already amply 
repaid in pleasing me.” 

“ And now my lord, how long have I been here ?” 

“ This is the sixth day.” 

“ With a loud cry the crusader started to his feet. 

“ God have mercy on me !” he groaned, wringing his 
hands in agony. 

“ What moves you thus, my son ?” asked the Old 
Man, while something like a smile played around his 
lips. 

“ What moves me, do you ask ? Do you know what 
the Christian army is doing at Nice ? Do you know 
what they have a right to expect at the hands of Hugh 
de Vermandois ? And do you ask me what moves me !” 

“You are not a philosopher, my son ?” 

“ And if I were, how could philosophy serve me 
now ?” 

“ It would bid you, instead of thinking of six days’ 
absence from your camp, and of mourning thereat, to 
think of the eternal farewell you came so near bidding 
said camp, and of the gratitude due to the God of 
heaven for the life that is still yours.” 

“ Forgive me !” exclaimed the warm-hearted prince, 
grasping the Old Man by the hand. “ I will be a 
philosopher. God be praised that I have a life left to 
give to the cause of the Holy Cross !” 

“ And now, my son, we can proceed. But first let 
me say to you, I am your friend while I live, and you 


m 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


may command me. But for you I should, ere this, have 
lost my power forever, if not my head. You were 
seeking me when you ascended the mountain ?" 

“ Yes." 

“ And wherefore ?" 

“ I had heard that, though a follower of the prophet, 
you were yet at enmity with the Seljoucides. I wished 
for the services of a messenger which I believed you 
alone could furnish — a messenger who could enter the 
besieged city and bring me word from a person who, 
I have reason to believe, is held captive there." 

“ Such a messenger, my son, you can have at any 
time," said Hashishin, cheerfully. “ And I will tell you 
that there are four of my trusty guards who would lay 
down their lives for you at your bidding — the four who 
survived the battle on the mountain. And now, how 
much of your story are you at liberty to tell to me ?’’ 

“ All of it, my lord. Listen, if you have patience." 

The Old Man signified that he was not only willing 
to listen, but really curious to hear the knight’s story, 
whereupon the latter spoke as follows : 

“ Among the maidens of my native land the most 
beautiful of them all was Gertrude, the daughter of 
Count Raymond of Thoulouse. Not only did she out- 
shine the whole court in the surpassing loveliness of 
form and feature, but to a grace that might have be- 
come the queen of the fairies, were added a strength of 
arm and a greatness of soul that rendered her next to 
invincible in arms. I wonder not that you are sur- 
prised. But you must know that upon both her father’s 
and her mother’s sides, Gertrude came of a stock that 
bred only warriors. In her childhood she conceived a 
passion for arms ; and, at first in sport, her father 
yielded to her whims. As she increased in years, her 
love of arms grew stronger, and as each successive 


THE STORY OF HUGh's LOVE. 


Stage of development added to her strength of body, 
new charms were added to her loveliness. At the age 
of nineteen, she met and overcame in the lists one of 
the best knights of France ; and it was not the thought 
of doing harm to a woman that stayed his hand, for he 
truly believed that he was fighting against Hugh of 
Vermandois ; for, when mounted upon her powerful 
charger, with her tall plumes rising over her casque, 
the slight difference in stature was not observed. It 
was almost a year after this that she visited my 
brother's court ; and one day she laughingly challenged 
me to a joust with wooden lances. At first I thought 
her not serious, for she well knew that I, though one 
of the youngest, was yet one of the stoutest knights in 
France. Suffice it to say that we met, both clad in 
complete armor. In the beginning I did not put forth 
my whole strength, and she perceived it, and blamed 
me for it. Soon, however, I found that I had need to 
summon all the powers I possessed ; and under the 
exciting influence of the shouts of the multitude, I for- 
got my hesitation and threw my whole soul into the 
conflict. The noble lady had one important advantage 
over me. I called myself the best horseman at the 
court, and so I was acknowledged by my peers ; but 
Gertrude of Thoulouse was the most accomplished 
rider that I ever saw. She was, in fact, so much a 
part of the horse she bestrode that no possible break 
on the part of the beast, be it never so wild and sudden, 
could shake her from her seat. Fortunately for me, I 
discovered her marvelous prowess before it was too 
late ; and by putting forth the last effort of my power, 
I overcame her. 

“ When I beheld that steel-clad form rolling in the 
dust — cast there by my hand — and remembered the 
thing of beauty that had been thus overturned, my 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 

heart beat with painful emotion, and a dreadful agony 
seized upon me. Then it was that I knew how fondly 
I had loved her ; and the thought came to me that she 
must henceforth hate me. But how wrongfully had I 
judged ! Instead of blaming me for what I had done* 
she praised me for a true knight and told me that her 
hand was mine if I would accept it ; for she regarded 
me as a knight worthy of her love and esteem. 

“ And so Gertrude of Thoulouse came to be my 
promised bride ; but her father, who was then prepar- 
ing for the crusade, declared that when we were mar- 
ried it should be at Jerusalem, upon the site of the 
Holy Temple. 

“ When we were ready to start for the Holy Land, 
Gertrude was at my bi other’s court, and her father sent 
word that she should proceed to Constantinople with 
me ; and we set forth together, little dreaming of the 
evil that was in store for us. Upon the coast of Epirus 
my ship was cast away ; bnt Gertrude and I reached 
the shore in safety, where I left her at a fisherman’s 
hut, while I went to look after the saving of our stores. 
During the first night after the wreck Gertrude was 
borne away from the hut. That she was dragged awa3^ 
by cruel force I knew full well ; but by whom and 
whither I could not learn. I had rivals — rivals who 
hated both the lady and myself — rivals who had been 
overcome in the list by the fair Amazon, and who had 
never forgiven her for conquering at once their arms 
and their claim to her hand, nor forgiven me for hav- 
ing fairly won the precious jewel which they had sought 
in vain. That these false knights had a hand in her 
abduction I am sure ; but since I could not bring an 
atom of proof, I have not dared openly to make the 
charge. Yet they are aware of my suspicions, and a 
secret dread increases their hate. 


THE STORY OF HUGH’S LQVE. 


271 


“ Perhaps you have heard how the Emperor Alexius, 
when he heard of my mishap, sent a strong- force and 
caused me to be conducted to his capital, where he 
sought to enlist me in his own service. He promised 
me princely rank and power, and even hinted that he 
would nominate me as his successor upon the throne, 
but I would not listen. I could not forget my vows, 
taken when the pope placed the standard of the church 
in my care ; and, remembering them, I could not break 
them. It was at one time whispered among those 
knights who had arrived at Constantinople with me 
that I had sold myself to the Greek emperor, but they 
knew ’twas false when they said so. But of this I need 
tell you no more. The crusaders had at length all 
reached the shores of the Bosphorus, and thence we set 
forth upon our march, which brought us first to 
the city now under siege. 

“ The last of our chiefs to reach the rendezvous was 
Raymond of Thoulouse. I had hoped to be the first to 
convey to him intelligence of the loss of his daughter, 
but somebody had been in advance of me. I had ex- 
pected that he would blame me and that he would 
loudly grieve in his bereavement, for I knew that he 
held his beautiful child in the innermost depths of his 
love. But he received me calmly and, I thought, coldly. 
I quickly saw that he wished not to converse upon the 
matter and I left him, and from that time to the pres- 
ent no word has passed between us upon the subject 
of our mutual loss. He has treated me with studied 
politeness, and I have reason to believe that my ene- 
mies have sought to poison his mind against me. But 
in good time, if I live, I shall know that. 

“ And now, my lord, I come to the end of the chap- 
ter. On the day that we attacked the city, I gained a 
footing upon the outer wall, and while there I saw four 


272 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


stout men dragging a female along upon the inner 
rampart. I caught a view of her face and I am sure 
it was Gertrude of Thoulouse ! I saw her but a 
single instant, and before I could gain the place where 
she had disappeared a heavy detachment of the 
enemy’s forces drove me back, and I was forced to re- 
treat for my life. I am sure that Gertrude is a pris- 
oner in Nice, and that when we made the attack she 
sought to make her escape. And, good father, I must 
see her. But how ? I asked myself this question a 
week ago, and my judgment said to me: i If you would 
enter Nice, or if you would gain intelligence from 
Gertrude, you must secure the assistance of the Old 
Man of the Mountain. He alone, of all the world, can 
safely help you in this.’ So I sought you, and the re- 
sult you have seen.” 

Hashishin had listened attentively, apparently much 
interested in the crusader’s story, and when it had been 
concluded, he said : 

“ Truly, sir knight, yours is a wonderful story. I 
should almost be tempted to doubt the entire truth of 
what you tell concerning the lady of Thoulouse, did I 
not know, through evidence of my own senses, that 
among the maidens and wives of the Christians of the 
West, there have been those who have taken up arms 
and joined their brothers and their husbands in battle. 
I know that when Alexius fought against Robert Guis- 
card, the wife of that gallant chief, the Lady Gaita, 
not only fought by her husband’s side, but actually 
saved a battle by her daring and wondrous presence of 
mind. It was when the forces of Guiscard had broken 
and were fleeing from the field, that she drove her 
horse before them and, swaying her lance in their 
faces, and asking them if they would leave a woman to 
fight alone with her husband, she influenced them to 


THE STORY OF HUGH’S LOVE. 


273 


turn back and, following- whither she led, they won the 
day. And she, too, was so beautiful that the emperor 
was smitten with her charms.” 

“ Aye,” returned Hugh, “ I have seen the Lady 
Gaita, and I can swear that she is fair and beautiful ; 
but her beauty is of a cold and haughty kind, willful 
and imperious, while the loveliness of Gertrude of 
Thoulouse is of the kind that melts the heart and wins 
love and homage at once. Oh, she is very beautiful, 
and she is as good and true as she is beautiful. So I 
declare, calling God to witness the truth !” 

“ Hugh de Vermandois,” said the Old Man, with 
something of solemnity in the latter part of his speech, 
“ I might hear many men speak as you have spoken 
and give little credit to their words ; but you have 
proved to me that you are a brave, true man, and I 
know that no falsehood dwells in your heart. What- 
ever may have been your hopes when you set forth to 
seek me, and however I might have answered had you 
found me without trouble, can signify nothing now, 
for new relations have sprung up between us, cement- 
ing us, I trust, in a friendship that shall know no 
treachery. In answer to the story you have told me, 
I have only to say, command me, and I will serve you 
to the extent of my power ; remembering, my son, 
that honor as well as opportunity may circumscribe a 
man’s ability.” 

“ I understand you,” said the prince, with emotion, 
“ and I should at once prove myself unworthy even of 
common friendship, did I not recognize and respect the 
obstacle to my desires which true honor imposes. And 
now, this is my request : I want a messenger who can 
come to my tent and go thence into Nice — one who 
will do my bidding while in the city and return to me 
with his answer.” 


274 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


“ I will do more,” returned Hashishin. “ I will send 
to you the four men whose lives you saved on the 
mountain ; and you may be assured that they will serve 
you with their lives, if necessary.” 

“ Are . they here ?” asked Hugh, looking around as 
though he expected to behold them at his call. 

The Old Man shook his head, and a peculiar smile 
flitted across his face. But gradually the smile faded 
away, and while a look of solomn meaning overspread 
his strongly marked features, he arose and placed his 
hand upon his guest’s head. 

“ Hugh de Vermandois,” he said, with grave solem- 
nity, “ those men of whom we speak are so true to me 
that, at my bidding, they would, without even the ap- 
pearance of hesitation, cast themselves down from the 
highest precipice of these mountains, fully assured 
that, on the moment of their mortal dissolution, their 
freed spirits would be wafted to a paradise of which 
this is a type. And yet, were they to know that I had 
this retreat — could they once gain access here in their 
waking senses — their faith might be sadly, if not 
fatally, staggered. No, no. They know it not, and 
they must never know it. To you, who have seen so 
much, I will say, that the entrance to this garden is 
so obscure that no mortal can ever find it except 
through the treachery of some one whom I am forced 
to trust. The entrance is by a series of caverns, where 
art has placed obstructions and barriers which the eye 
of man could never detect, though he devoted a life- 
time to the search. And now promise me — swear to 
me by that which you hold most sacred — that you will 
never tell to a human being — that you will never men- 
tion by so much as a syllable, even to me, when away 
from here — what you have seen since opening your 
eyes in this pavilion.” 


THE STORY OE HUGHES LOVE. 


m 

And Hugh made instant answer : 

“ By the hope which I hold of honor among my fel- 
Iow-mOn I swear — by the love I bear to Gertrude I 
swear— ^aild by my hope of heaven in the time to eoine 
I swear— ^that my lips shall be henceforth sealed 
touching this place* I will live and speak as though I 
had never seen it/* 

“ Enough. The men whom you seek shall be with 
you within an hour after you reach your tent. They will 
give you to know their purpose, and you may then 
command them.” 

As Hashishin thus spoke, he took from a side-board, 
made of ivory and mother-of-pearl, a small golden 
salver, upon which were a crystal flask and two small 
goblets. He filled both, the goblets, and passing one 
to his guest, he added : 

“ And now, in a draught of such cordial as only the 
most favored ones can ever hope to sip, I pledge you 
my friendship while the life you saved is left to me.” 

The Old Man of the Mountain raised his glass to 
his lips, barely touching the pale liquid ; while Hugh, 
never noticing the abstinence of his host, drank the 
contents of his goblet at a single draught. It was a 
delicious beverage, and in a very few moments he felt 
a genial warmth spreading through every avenue of 
his body, while objects about him grew brighter and 
more glorious. 

“ Good Father, when shall I return ? Am I not 
strong ? Tell me ; is this cure only seeming — induced 
by drugs that will leave me weak and pain-racked 
when their substance is used up ; or is it real and sub- 
stantial V* 

“ There is no deceit in this, my son. Your body is 
entirely free from disease, and all of weakness there is 
you can feel even now. I think this first exertion will 


m 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON, 


so weary you that you will soon wish to repose awhile 
ere you set forth. After that, you shall depart when 
you please. I think I can already detect signs of 
fatigue. Y ou have endured much, considering how long 
you have remained wholly inactive.” 

“ I think I do feel somewhat weary, good father.” 

“ Aye, I thought so. Seek your couch a while, and 
when you again arise it shall be to depart for the Chris- 
tian camp.” 

The prince sought his couch, as his host had sug- 
gested, and in a very short time thereafter his senses 
were locked ‘in a slumber so profound that a thunder- 
bolt could not have aroused him. 




CHAPTER V. 

STARTLING INTELLIGENCE. 

Prince Hugh felt the gentle breeze fanning his brow, 
and upon attempting to turn he felt that his bed was 
hard like iron. He opened his eyes, but closed them 
instantly, for the bright sunlight dazzled them pain- 
fully. He moved again, and it quickly appeared to 
him that he was in his armor ; and under the influence 
of this discovery he started to a sitting posture, and 
gradually opened his eyes to the light of day, and gazed 
around him. He was clad in full armor ; his sword 
was at his hip, his lance by his side, his buckler resting 
against his thigh, his helmet at his elbow, while his 
faithful horse was directly before him, busily engaged 
in cropping the buds from a mass of shrubbery that 
found root in a crevice of the rock ; for he was upon 
a rocky bed — upon the very mountain table where he 
had fought with the Turks. Could it be ? He closed 
his eyes and opened them again. Yes ; there could be 
no mistake. He arose. There was a sense of languor, 
of weakness ; but upon moving around a little, and 
inhaling the fresh air, he found himself stronger. 

Yes ; he was upon the same table where he had 
fought ; but where were the bodies of the slain ? 

“ Dominic,” he cried, addressing his horse, “what is 
the meaning of all this? Have I been dreaming? 

[2 77 ] 


dERTRUbE THE AMAZON, 


Have I lain here since that rock fell upon me ? 1* 

faith, it is the very spot where I fell, and here is the 
rock that crushed me down ; and,” he added, picking- 
up his helm, “ here is the terrible dent where the mis- 
sile struck. Ye gods ! What is the meaning of this 
strange event ? I see — the Turks have removed the 
bodies of their own, and the Ismaelians have carried 
away the fallen of their party ; whiile I, friendless and 
forsaken, have been left here to recover as best I 
might. But I cannot blame them. They evidently 
left me for dead, thinking, doubtless, that my own fol- 
lowers would find me in good time. And it has been 
all a dream — all, all, a dream. And yet, my soul, how 
real ! I can even now hear the tones of the old man 
in my ears, and the taste of the nectar is upon my lips. 
But it was too beautiful to be real — and in such a 
place, too ! ’Sdeath ! I only wonder that the mind of 
man could be wild enough even to dream of such a 
paradise in the midst of these grim mountains !” 

For some time the knight paced to and fro, ever and 
anon stopping, as some staggering reflection crossed 
his mind, and finally he came to this conclusion : 
When the conflict between the Ismaelians and the 
Turks, in which he had taken part, had ended, those 
living had borne away each the bodies of their friends, 
and he had been left for dead, the old man believing 
that his own people would find his body and care for 
it. It required considerable mental labor to bring him 
to this conclusion, for the events of the experience in 
the pavilion and in the garden were so vividly im- 
pressed upon his mind that he could with difficulty and 
much hesitation throw them off. But, on the side of 
calm reason, how T could such an experience have been 
possible? It could not. It must have been a dream 
and nothing more. 


STARTLING INTELLIGENCE. 


279 


And now came another consideration : What should 
be his next step ? He looked at the sun, and found it 
in the east ; so he knew it was morning, and hence he 
concluded that he had lain there upon the rock near 
four-and-twenty hours. The blow which had felled 
him must have been a severe one, and he wondered 
how it was that he felt no pain. 

“Ah !” he said to himself, as thought entered his 
mind. “ The pain will come soon enough. It is not 
time for it yet. In a very few hours, no doubt, my 
limbs will begin to swell, and I shall suffer enough.’’ 

And he concluded that he had better return to the 
camp, and take another time for visiting the Old Man 
of the Mountain. 

“ For surely,” he reasoned, “he will, when he finds 
that I am alive and well, assist me readily. I have a 
claim upon his friendship now which he cannot disre- 
gard. I will return to the camp before my waking 
senses begin to groan with pain, and at another time I 
will seek Hashishin.” 

“ Having thus spoken, the knight donned his casque, 
and having seen that his armor was all fast, he picked 
up his lance and mounted to his saddle. A few mo- 
ments he sat there, with his head bowed, as though 
yet undecided, but presently he cried : 

“ No, no, my Dominic, not now. We have been long 
enough away from the camp. At another time we will 
make further search for the white-haired mountain 
chieftain. Up, now, and let us be going !” 

With a glad neigh the horse pricked up his ears and 
without any direction from his master, he took the 
path by which he had ascended, seeming to declare by 
his prompt movements that he knew the way and would 
keep it. 

It was past noon when Prince Hugh reached the 


280 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON: 


camp of the crusaders, and upon his appearance his 
immediate followers, to the number of five or six 
thousand, sent up a shout of joy that shook the air as 
with a thunderbolt. 

“ Prince Hugh is safe ! God and the Vermandois !” 
were the cries that rent the air. And very soon he was 
surrounded by his friends, all eager to know where he 
had been, and if he was really safe and well. Bowing 
and waving his hand, and returning the friendly salu- 
tations as far as he was able, the prince slowly made 
his way toward his tent. But the anxiety of his people 
was so great to know where he had been that they 
crowded together in his path, and he was beginningto 
be perplexed and irritated when his faithful esquire 
gained his side. 

“ My lord,” said de St. Valery, “if you can tell them 
where you have been, and why you have been absent 
so long, without injury to your own reputation, do so 
in God’s name !” 

The prince regarded his esquire with a look of blank 
amazement. 

“ Speak !” urged Walter. “ Speak — and I will explain 
hereafter.” 

Upon that Hugh drew up his horse and turned 
toward those of his followers who had blocked up his 
way. 

“ Men of Vermandois,” he said, “ when I left the 
camp I only intended to have been gone a few hours. 
On the mountain, in a secluded place, I met fourteen 
Seljoudice Turks of the Sultan’s army and gave them 
battle. I had slain or wounded all but two and these 
I had driven up against the face of a high precipice, 
when two of tlie wounded ones, who had made their 
way unobserved to the top of the cliff, hurled down 
upon me a heavy rock. They discharged two. The 


STARTLING INTELLIGENCE. 


281 


first crushed one of their own men who had stood be- 
fore me, and the second, just as I had slain the only 
remaining Moslem, struck me upon the head, felling „ 
me to the earth as one dead. I was found by a party 
of mountaineers, who carried me to their cavern home 
and cared for me, and from the moment when the 
rock struck me I had no return of sense until this 
morning — no sober, rational sense, that gave me to 
know where I was. That is all, my men. I am weak 
and fatigued now. Give me rest, I pray you, and at 
another time you shall have the whole story of my 
adventure.” 

The Vermandois were satisfied, and with louder cries 
of joy than before, they cleared the way to their chief- 
tain’s tent and allowed him to proceed without further 
impediment, and ere long he was alone with his 
esquire, having laid aside his armor and donned a silken 
robe. 

“ Walter,” demanded the knight, as soon as he was 
sure that no other ears were near, “ how long have I 
been absent from the camp ?” 

“ This is the seventh day, my lord.” 

“ Are you sure ?” 

“ You went away on the second day of last week and 
this is the first day of another week.” 

“ Oh, my soul ! Then it was not a dream !” 

Walter de St. Valery regarded his master with a 
puzzled, anxious look, and it was very plain to be seen 
that he had a heavy burden upon his mind. 

“ Walter,” said Hugh, after a short silence, “ you 
spoke to me but now as though there was trouble 
brewing against me here in the camp. Did you mean 
so ?” 

“ I did, my lord.” 

“ Tush ! Speak out, good Walter, and speak plainly. 


282 GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 

He is a true friend who tells the truth unsparingly 
when it can be of service. Now tell me what is plot- 
ting against me.” 

“ My lord, you know that the Bourbon brothers, 
Peter and Arnold, are your enemies ; and with them, 
against you, works Raymond’s favorite captain, Guis- 
card de Grillon.” 

A bitter smile passed over the knight’s face as he 
replied : 

“ All three of these false-hearted knights aspired, in 
turn, to the hand of the Lady Gertrude ; and all three, 
in turn, were overcome by her in the list. We can 
easily understand why they should hate me. Aye !” 
the prince cried, smiting his clinched fist upon his knee, 
“ and why they should fear me, too ! Walter, as true 
as God lives, those dastards contrived the abduction of 
Gertrude of Thoulouse !” 

“ My lord !” 

“ It is even so, Walter. In my own heart, before my 
God, I know it ; and in time the whole army shall know 
it. But I have not the proof that would satisfy a court 
of human judges. They caused that she should be 
taken away from the fisherman’s hut, and carried to 
one of the cities we were likely to attack ; and there 
they planned, either that she should be sold into 
slavery, out of revenge, or else she is to be held until 
they shall decide by lot which shall possess her. Good 
Walter, I saw Gertrude of Thoulouse upon the wall of 
Nice ! I am not mistaken. And I think my enemies 
know that I saw her ; for Guiscard de Grillon was 
very near to me at the time. I saw her, and I de- 
termined to find a messenger whom I could safely 
send it unto her ; and for that purpose I sought the 
Old Man of the Mountain, knowing, if I could secure 
his friendship, I should obtain the messenger. It was 


STARTLING INTELLIGENCE. 


283 


for that purpose I went to the mountains a week 
ago.” 

“ And did you find the renowned chief ?” asked the 
esquire, with much interest. 

“ Yes, I met him ; and it was in his behalf that I en- 
gaged the Turks.” And thereupon Hugh gave to his 
companion a detailed account of his battle, from the 
time when he first came in sight of the unequal con- 
flict to the falling of the rock upon his head. 

“ And where were you when you recovered your 
senses ?” asked Walter. 

The knight bent his head upon his hand and reflected. 
He had begun to think that the vision of the pavilion 
and the garden might have been substantial realities, 
after all ; and if so, he had bound himself never to 
speak of them. 

“ Good Walter,” he finally answered, looking up, “ I 
hardly know how to answer you. If the vision was 
real, then I came to my senses first yesterday, when I 
found myself in an abode far more comfortable than I 
had ever expected to behold in such a locality, and the 
Old Man of the Mountain was with me. He had 
caused me to be borne thither, and there I had been 
nursed for six days by slaves who had stood over me 
all the time. Gentle opiates had been administered to 
prevent the return of sense and the consequent real- 
ization of pain, and in that condition a cure almost 
miraculous had been effected. I told to Hashishin 
my story, and he promised to assist me. Aye, he 
promised to send to me the four servants whose lives 
I saved with his own — and he did it cheerfully, pledg- 
ing an undying friendship besides. But mind you, 
this may have all been a dream. At the close of our 
interview I drank a small measure of nectar, and shortly 
afterward fell asleep upon my bed. So much for what 


284 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


may have happened in the grotto if it was not all a 
dream. 

“ This morning I awoke and found myself lying just 
where 1 fell beneath the huge rock which the Turk 
hurled upon me. I was in full armor, my arms by my 
side and my horse feeding close by. There I was, all 
alone, and no signs of either living or dead men near me.” 
And then the knight told of his meditations, and of his 
final resolution to return to the camp, remarking, in 
conclusion : “ We shall ere long know if I dreamed or 
not. If I saw the Old Man, as I think, his guards 
will come.” 

“ Of one thing, at least, you may be sure,” suggested 
the esquire. “ You could not have remained upon that 
rocky table on the mountain-side during the six days, 
for I know that I crossed it with a hundred men seve- 
ral times.” 

“ That is evident enough. I think the messengers 
will come ; and in the meantime, Walter, I would know 
what mine enemies have done. You were about to 
tell me when we branched off upon the story of my adven- 
ture. Tell me all. My ears are prepared, and the 
consciousness of right and honor gives me strength to 
bear everything that 'craven traitors can bring upon 
me.” 

“ My lord,” said De St. Valery, speaking slowly and 
with a solemn soberness, and with the air of a man 
who would mingle counsel with his revelations, “ you 
must not despise the efforts of your enemies against 
you ; for, believe me, they are at work with caution, 
feeling their way carefully as they advance, and seek- 
ing seeming evidence to sustain their charges. First, 
they are planning to show that you took the oath of 
allegiance to the Greek Emperor, and that even now 
you are working in his interest. It has been whispered 


STARTLING INTELLIGENCE. 


285 


that should Nice finally fall, it will fall into the hands 
of Alexius instead of into the hands of those noble sol- 
diers of the Cross who will have shed their blood for 
the prize.” 

“ And do they insinuate that Hugh of Vermandois 
knows aught of this — that he will seek to bring about 
such a result ?” 

“ Yes, my lord ; they not only insinuate this, but they 
are leading many of the crusaders to believe it. The 
men of Vermandois denounce the thing as a vile slan- 
der ; and so do the followers of the stout Duke, Robert 
of Normandy, together with the noble Count of Flan- 
ders and his men. But you must remember how many 
chiefs there are who know you not, only as they hear 
of you from others. It is known that you spent the 
winter at the emperor's court, and that he bestowed 
upon you more favors than were bestowed upon any 
other knight of Europe.” 

“ Walter !” cried the prince, while an icy hand seemed 
for the moment laid upon his heart, “ do you believe 
these things ?” 

“ I !” uttered the esquire, as though the very Monarch 
of Tartarus had at that instant claimed him for his 
own. 

“ Do you believe them, Walter ? Mark me,” the knight 
added, with an emotion that set his lips as though they 
had been made of steel, “ the man claiming to be a 
friend, if he hesitates and doubts when the honor of 
his brother is assailed, is worse than an open and loud- 
mouthed believer ; for of the shapeless material af- 
forded by the shy and embarrassed hesitation of an 
aforetime confidant and companion, the scheming 
enemy may build up just such evidence of crime as 
suits him best.” 

“ In God’s name,” cried the astounded man, sinking 


286 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


upon his knees and grasping his master’s hands, “ what 
mean those words ?” 

“Your looks, Walter. You tremble, and your gaze 
seems to quail before me.” 

A moment the esquire remained as he was, and then, 
while a gleam of light fell upon his face, he arose to 
his feet. 

“ My lord,” he said, in a tone of relief, “ I understand 
it. I had turned my thoughts upon the misfortunes 
which had conspired to throw power into the hands of 
your enemies — misfortunes which commenced with the 
fatal wreck at Epirus, and which have been multiplied 
since ; and thus thinking, I shuddered with the reflec- 
tion that upon the shoulders of the very noblest of all 
the true and gallant knights whom God had given to 
the work of redeeming the Holy Land the sins of the 
most base and vile might be laid. It was that idea, 
fully pictured in my mind, that gave tone and expres- 
sion to my face when you looked up.” 

Hugh caught the hand of his friend and raised it to 
his lips ; and in the warmth of his impulsive nature, 
he cried out : 

“ In heaven’s name, dear Walter, forgive me ! Oh, 
it would break my heart if I thought you could prove 
false ! But I ought to do penance for ever having con- 
ceived such a thing possible. You will forgive me, 
Walter ?” 

“Oh, my God,” ejaculated the faithful esquire, fling- 
ing his arms around the prince’s neck, “ if I can know 
that you love me and trust me and still hold me near 
to your prayers, I shall be as happy as I can ask. This 
poor life is yours !” 

The prince gazed up through a flood of tears ; and while 
his lips were trembling in vain effort at speech, Walter 
added, with solemn earnestness : 


STARTLING INTELLIGENCE. 


^87 

“ Aye, my lord, and more than that : I can give you 
assurance that ten thousand men surround you at this 
moment whose hearts no power of earth can alienate 
from you !" 

“Ah, whom have we here ? Roland, what now?" 

“ Four strangers, my lord," answered the page, “who 
demand to speak with Prince Hugh of Vermandois." 

“ What manner of men are they ?” 

“By their garbs, my lord, I should pronounce them 
fishermen of the lake.” 

Who could they be ? Would the Ismaelians come in 
such garb ? But the prince ordered that they should 
be admitted to his presence. 

Ah ! It was not a dream ! No, no — for before him, 
in humble, submissive mood, knelt the promised 
Fedais of the Old Man of the Mountain ! 




CHAPTER VI. 

THE SECRET PASSAGE. 

Walter de St. Valery would have left the tent when 
the messengers of Hashishin entered, but his master 
detained him. 

“ No, good Walter, I will not have it so,” said Hugh. 
*' Thou art faithful, and I will henceforth, while this 
matter is in hand, trust thee as though thou wert a 
part of myself. Only I claim from thee this promise : 
Say unto me that no sign, word or deed which may 
meet thy senses in connection with this business shall 
pass thy lips but with my consent. Thy promise will 
be to me as good as. an oath.” 

The esquire promised readily, and showed by his 
manner, as well as by his words, that he was greatly 
pleased with this mark of his master’s confidence. 

After this the prince made a sign to the Ismaelians 
that they should arise, and bade that they should tell 
him for what purpose they had come ; whereupon one 
of the four again knelt, and thus spoke : 

“ To the noble Prince Hugh, a Christian knight, our 
beloved lord hath sent iis witlrthe command that our 
lives be given in his hands. We are here to hear and 
obey. Save the raising of our hands against our own 
[288] 



THE SECRET PASSAGE. 


289 


brethren, there can be nothing which we will not un- 
dertake at thy bidding/' 

The prince comprehended at once that he had only 
to make known his desire in order to set these devoted 
men at work. He reflected a while, and then asked 
his esquire what was the hour. As for himself, he had 
kept no reckoning of time. He was informed that it 
was near the tenth hour. Hugh had no idea that the 
day was so well-nigh spent ; but there might be yet 
time for work — perhaps the most favorable time was 
yet to come. 

“ Friends,” he said, directing his address, however, 
to the man who had thus far acted as spokesman of 
the party, “ do you think you can gain entrance to this 
besieged city ?” 

“Very easily,” answered the Assassin. “And in 
order that thy mind may be made easy upon that 
score, I will show thee how. Among the Turks whom 
you slew upon the mountain was a certain officer of 
the Sultan’s army, named Abdul ben Achmed. He 
was of my own age, of my own stature, and he had 
many shades of resemblance in feature and look. I, 
Hassan, have secured Ben Achmed’s entire garb, to- 
gether with his arms, and in his guise I shall enter the 
city. My companions have also garbs which were 
taken from the bodies of other fallen Turks.” 

Hassan observed that a query had suggested itself 
to the Christian’s mind, and, quickly divining its im- 
port, he added : 

“ The bodies of the four Turks, whose garbs and 
arms we thus appropriated, were carried away and 
buried by ourselves, so that we may not fear detection 
from the knowledge of their death. And moreover, 
my lord, this same Abdul ben Achmed was often a 
messenger from Kilidge Arslan to the forces within the 


290 GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 

city, for you must know that even now the Sultan’s 
wife and children are within the walls of Nice.” 

“ Have you brought these disguises with you ?” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ And you can enter Nice this night ?” 

“ We can enter Nice at any time, my lord, and in any 
manner that suits us best. These disguises will only 
serve to enable us to pass certain guards without ques- 
tion. We have more power than you think.” 

“Then listen. Hassan, when I left my native land I 
held in charge the most lovely damsel that my eye ever 
rested upon. She was my promised bride. It had 
been planned that we should be married in Jerusalem. 
On the coast of Epirus our ship was wrecked, and dur- 
ing the following night my lady was stolen away. I had 
enemies among my own countrymen who must have 
contrived the wickedness, but they must have been 
Moslems who bore her away. I will not tell you how 
we have searched, nor how we have suffered. I will 
only tell you that one week ago, when I stood upon the 
top of the outer wall of yonder city, I beheld my beloved 
in the hands of four stout Saracens, being dragged 
away from the inner battlements. The lady is Ger- 
trude of Thoulouse, daughter of the noble Count Ray- 
mond. I must see her. Bring her to me if you can.” 

Hassan shook his head. 

“Do you doubt — ” 

The Fc'da'i stopped the knight with a motion of his 
hand. 

“ I doubt no word of yours, my lord. We will find 
the lady, if she is in the city ; but the bringing of her 
forth may not be so easy. Such prisoners are not 
trusted under the sole security of bolts and bars. Eyes 
that never sleep are watching her. It is not impos- 
sible that some of our own soldiers may be guarding 


THE SECRET PASSAGE. 


291 


her. There are many of them employed by private 
nobles in Nice.” 

“ But,” cried Hugh, “you will see her, and bring me 
word.” 

“ We will do that.” 

And upon that mission the Fc'dais soon afterward 
went their way, Hassan having promised that he 
would return as early on the morrow as possible. 

After the messengers had gone, Hugh de Verman- 
dois walked forth in his own quarter, and met a large 
number of his own knights and trusty esquires, to 
whom, being earnestly pressed, he related all that had 
transpired during his absence, only omitting the name 
of Hashishin and the circumstance of the garden. He 
represented the truth as nearly as he could without 
connecting himself in any manner with the Old Man 
of the Mountain, feeling himself perfectly justified in 
withholding information which concerned no one but 
himself. 

There had been no assault made upon the city dur- 
ing his absence, nor had the Turks upon the mountains 
showed any disposition to make an attack. 

The prince could not but discover that his friends 
were uneasy concerning him ; but at the same time he 
received new proofs of their friendship and fidelity ; 
and he thought that in a few days he should be able to 
blow away the insignificant cloud which had arisen 
upon the horizon of his fate. It could not be long, he 
thought, before he should expose the perfidy of the 
false knights who were now so busily engaged in tra- 
ducing him. But he must gain Gertrude’s evidence 
against them — an event which would at once clear his 
fame and secure his lasting happiness. 

At an early hour the prince retired to his couch, 
•vyhere he slept soundly until morning ; and when he 


292 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


had arisen and performed his ablutions, he felt stronger 
than on the previous day. In fact, when he had eaten 
his breakfast, he believed himself as capable of bear- 
ing a lance as ever. He had arisen from the morning 
meal and was upon the point of giving some direction 
to his esquire, when Hassan, the Fedai stood before 
him, having glided in like a specter, unannounced and 
unnoticed by those in the outer tent. 

“ Ha, Hassan ! Is 't thou ?” 

“ Come to bring thee this,” responded the messenger, 
at the same time handing to the prince a tiny parcel, 
which might have been effectually hidden between the 
thumb and finger. 

Hugh took it, and found it to be a bit of fine white 
silk, which he quickly opened and spread out, discov- 
ering a surface about the size of his palm, neatly glazed 
with some glutinous substance and written upon with 
a pen. And this is what was written and what he read 
with a wildly throbbing heart. How quickly he recog- 
nized those characters — bold, yet delicate, and blurred 
in one or two places, as though drops of moisture had 
fallen there : 

“ To the Noble and Valiant Hugh of Vermandois : I 
am a prisoner in the hands of the Emir Abu Hassa. Thus far I 
have found strength for the protection of my honor. Come to 
me, if you can. No stratagem can free me from these bonds ; 
and yet the way for my deliverance is open. He who bears this 
says he can bring you into the city. If you can come with safety 
to yourself, do so, in answer to the earnest prayer of 

“ Gertrude.” 

The prince pressed, the missive to his lips and then 
turned to the messenger. 

“ You saw the lady ?” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ Is she not beautiful ?” 


THE SECRET PASSAGE. 


293 


“ Beautiful and majestic,” replied Hassan. 

“ Did she tell you of her situation — of the treatment 
she received at the hands of those who guard her ?” 

“Only that she is closely watched every moment of 
the time.” 

“ And this Abu Hassa, the Emir — do you know 
him ?” 

“Yes, my lord, I know him very well.” 

“ What is he like ? Tell me, Hassan, what you know 
of him.” 

“ He is one of the most powerful of the Seljoucide emirs, 
my lord, and is in the immediate service of the Sultan 
Kilidge Arslan. He has lived fifty years, and I doubt 
if any man ever did more iniquity in the same length 
of time. He is a noted warrior, and at this moment 
holds command in that quarter of the city where the 
sultan’s family is housed.” 

“ And you think I can gain entrance to the city ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ When ?” 

“ This night.” 

“ In your company ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you can lead me to Gertrude ?” 

“ I can lead you to the palace of the emir, and for 
success beyond that we must trust to the fate which is 
written. I think it is written that you shall see her.” 

The prince had many more questions to ask — ques- 
tions concerning the woman he loved ; for after the 
long and dreary separation it seemed almost like being 
restored to her, thus to converse with one who had 
just left her. During the conversation Hugh learned 
that Hassan ’s three companions had lemained in the 
city ; and furthermore, that for himself there was a 
disguise in waiting which would serve him well against 


294 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


discovery. It was a long time to wait — the whole day — 
but it passed at length, and when the shades of evening 
had settled upon the Christian camp, Hugh de Ver- 
mandois went forth from his tent in company with the 
trusty guide, having instructed his esquire to answer 
any who should inquire for him that he was away on 
business of his own. 

It will be understood that Hugh de Vermandois was 
in no way under the command of any human being in 
that army. He was one of the five French chiefs who 
had set forth, each in command of his own army and 
upon his own responsibility. Yet he owed a certain 
allegiance to his fellow-chieftains, in that they had 
mutually bound themselves by a solemn oath, and that 
oath declared that not one of them would turn his back 
toward Jerusalem, either through faintness of heart or 
for any selfish purpose, until the holy sepulcher had 
been reached. Hugh realized and appreciated the full 
force of this solemn obligation, and he would have been 
one of the very first to denounce and bring to trial the 
chief who should have broken the faith. But in this 
present business he was at work toward an end as im- 
portant to him as was the rescue of the holy city, and 
he knew that in no way was he stepping aside from his 
duty to his fellow-crusaders. On the contrary, he was 
engaged in a purpose which demanded all his energies, 
and to the accomplishment of which his knightly oath 
had been pledged before he ever dreamed of Jerusa- 
lem. 

“ Good Walter,” he had said to his esquire, “ the very 
first oath I took upon receiving my knightly spurs was 
this ; I will never see an innocent woman in peril with- 
out hastening to her assistance with all possible de- 
spatch and devoting my life to her rescue if neces- 
sary,” 


THE SECRET PASSAGE. 


295 


So the prince had no hesitation in pursuing the work 
before him without letting others into his secret. 

It was well into the evening when Hugh followed 
Hassan from the tent, and with quick steps they glided 
along upon the outskirts of the camp, keeping out of 
the way of the light of the watch-fires. They had 
come very near to the shore of the lake, when Hassan 
whispered to the prince that some one was following 
them. The latter looked back, and by the dim star- 
light he could distinguish two or three moving objects 
not far away. 

“ Have you enemies who could have any interest in 
following you asked the guide. 

Hugh, impelled by the instinct of his own conscious- 
ness of honor and right, was upon the point of answer- 
ing in the negative, when he remembered the circum- 
stance of his being followed in the forest, and the 
revelation which St. Valery had subsequently made, 
and this led him to change his thought. 

“ Yes,” he replied, with considerable reluctance, “ I 
have enemies in the camp who would like to pry into 
my affairs, and their motives are bad.” 

“Then keep your eyes upon me and follow close,” 
said Hassan. 

And with this the guide walked on a few paces very 
quickly, and suddenly he disappeared from sight within 
a clump of bushes ; but Hugh easily found the open- 
ing, and having submitted to a slight inconvenience 
from making his way through the tangled mass, where 
there was only a jackal-path, he discovered Hassan 
just turning the outer angle of an old wall, which 
seemed "to be a part of the ruins of some ancient build- 
ing ; and when he had gained this point he found him- 
self in the midst of a mass of tumble-down rocks and 
jagged walls, with corridors and shattered arches, 


296 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


which he had never before visited, and of the exist- 
ence of which, so near to the camp, he had had no pre- 
vious knowledge. By and by they came to a small 
open space, which might have been the inner court of 
a common dwelling ; and here Hugh expected to see 
his guide step off through an open arch, beyond which 
the waters of the lake were visible ; but the course 
pursued by the Fc'dai was somewhat different. Turn- 
ing a little to the left, toward a stout wall, he seized 
what appeared to be a fragment of rock, accidentally 
fallen upon a projecting ledge of the wall, and with a 
smart pull he drew open a secret door, and bade the 
knight enter. Such was Hugh’s confidence in his 
conductor that, if he had pulled up a trap and bade 
him leap into a dark abyss, he would hardly have hesi- 
tated. So through the open doorway he passed with- 
out question, and when Hassan had reclosed the door 
they were in impenetrable darkness. 

“ Your hand, my lord.” The prince gave it, and 
presently they arrived at a place where a blazing torch 
was stuck into a crevice of the rock ; and as soon as 
Hugh could command his eyes, he saw two of Hassan’s 
companions standing near. 

“ Ha !” cried Hugh, the truth flashing upon him the 
moment he saw the two Fc'dais there in waiting. “ Is 
there a subterranean passage into the city ?” 

For a few seconds Hassan w*as silent ; then he 
turned and spoke in a strange tongue with his com- 
panions, one of whom directly produced a bundle, 
from which Hassan took the various articles of clothing 
of a Seljoucide doctor, and handing them to the knight, 
he bade him remove his own outer garments and don 
these in their place. But the prince preferred to re- 
tain his hauberk, as he found the doctor’s tunic ample 
enough to cover it. This hauberk was of pliant leather, 


THE SECRET PASSAGE. 


29 ? 


reaching from his throat to his hips, with close-fitting 
sleeves extending to the wrists, and so cunningly cov- 
ered with a mail of interwoven rings of steel that no 
sword had ever been found trenchant enough to cut it ; 
and it must have been a strong arm, with clean sweep 
and true aim, that could even have driven the point of a 
dagger through it. 

While our hero had been changing his garb the two 
companions had again conferred together, and when he 
was ready to set forth, Hassan said unto him : 

“ My lord, you have guessed the truth. There is a 
secret underground passage from these ruins into the 
city, known only to our master and his guards. You 
are to be conducted by that passage, and it was Ha* 
shishin’s command, if we had occasion to lead you that 
way, that you should be hoodwinked. Have you any 
objections to allowing yourself to be thus deprived of 
your sight while threading the secret passage ?” 

“Suppose I had objections?” suggested the prince. 

“ In that case,” replied Hassan, “ I should confer with 
my brothers and decide whether we would accept a 
solemn oath as sufficient security.” 

“ My friends,” said the Christian, frankly. “ I have 
no reason to believe that you could wish to deceive or 
betray me, so I will trust myself in your hands hood- 
winked. Thus you will serve your master and at the 
same time serve me as well.” 

Hassan’s expression of gratitude was simple and 
heart-sent, and when he had bound a silken scarf se- 
curely over the prince’s eyes, he took him by the hand, 
saying : 

“ Come with me and fear no danger, for you are in 
the hands of a friend in whose fidelity you may with 
perfect safety confide.” 



CHAPTER VII. 

GERTRUDE OF THOLOUSE. 

It was along and dubious way, especially to one de- 
prived of sight, but Hugh de Vermandois knew that 
his guides were his friends and he gave himself not 
one thought of uneasiness in connection with his pass- 
age through the secret way. If he held any uneasy 
thoughts, they were of the success he might meet after 
the Fedais had left him to his own resources. However, 
he borrowed no trouble. He had a stout Damascus 
sword upon his hip — not like his own ponderous blade, 
fit to sever an iron helm, but still a true one — one that 
Hassan had furnished him, and so nearly like those 
worn by Turkish gentlemen that it could not help to 
betray him. 

At length the party stopped and the hoodwink was 
removed. The torch was still burning and they were 
still in the subterranean passage, but Hugh observed 
a flight of stone steps directly before him and at the 
head appeared to be a closed trap. 

“ Can you see, my lord ?” asked Hassan. 

“ Perfectly.” 

Then mark the nature of these steps and be pre- 
pared to follow us up. Beyond that the distance to the 
open highway of Nice is short, so please remember 
[298] 


GERTRUDE OE THOiOUsE. 


269 


that the Christian knight is keeping watch over the 
garments we have left behind us and that you are 
henceforth, until you find your own garb again, a Sel- 
joucide doctor, nothing more nor less. A forgetful- 
ness of this may cost you your life.” 

“ I understand,” returned the prince, “ and I will not 
forget your caution.” 

“ Should there come danger,” pursued the guide, 
“ be not too ready with your sword. If you can do so 
with your life, find me before resorting to it. Do you 
understand ?” 

“You mean,” answered the knight, that you will be 
near at hand, and that in case of danger I am to seek 
you ?” 

“ Yes,” said Hassan. “ You are to regard me as the 
man who alone can lead you out of harm’s way. And 
now let us proceed. Mark the steps, my lord.” 

He who carried the torch had lighted the lamp of a 
small lantern, which was set away in a convenient 
niche, and as Hassan spoke his last word of caution 
the flame of the torch was extinguished, and for a time 
all was total darkness. Hugh heard some one ascend 
the steps ; presently a grating sound struck his ear — a 
current of fresh air ; and then, upon looking up, he saw 
that a trap had been opened, and a space of dim, un- 
certain light was visible beyond. When his turn came 
— next before Hassan, who remained to see that all 
was left properly behind them — he ascended confi- 
dently, and when he came to look around him, after 
stepping forth upon the landing at the head of the 
steps, he found himself in a spacious building sup- 
ported by numerous columns and pilasters, the archi- 
ture all of the heaviest and grandest order. Something 
arose directly before him like an altar, and as his eyes 
became more used to the uncertain light he could see 


300 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


that the space was both spacious and magnificent. But 
whence came the light ? Surely not from windows, 
for he could see none. 

“ Are there lamps burning near at hand ?” he asked 
of his guide. 

“Yes,” said Hassan. 

“And do I not hear voices ?” 

“ Very likely. Can you guess where you are ?” 

Hugh shook his head. 

“ In about the last place that you would be suffered 
to visit if your presence was known to the rulers,” said 
Hassan, with a light laugh. “You are in the Mosque 
of Haroun al Raschid ; and the voices which you hear 
are of the priests and muezzins who are resting from 
the labors of the day, and waiting for the final prayer ; 
for since the city has been so seriously threatened an 
extra muezzin is called at the third hour of the night, 
and the watchmen and sentinels turn their faces to the 
tomb of the prophet at midnight.” 

The speaker came to a stop, and after a short pause he 
made -ready to answer the question which was plainly 
to be read in the knight’s look of astonishment. 

“ Hugh of Vennandois, I think I have your word 
that nothing which you may see or hear while in my 
company, aside from that which is properly your own 
business, shall ever pass your lips while in this 
country ?” 

“ Such a promise you have, my brother.” 

“ Then know that the mosque of Haroun al Raschid 
is entirely under the control of priests who are sworn 
followers of Hashishin. Not a soul in Nice, save our 
own people, dreams of such a thing. So now you un- 
derstand why you have been permitted to enter here. 
And I will add that, while I am with you, you will 
have no occasion to fear any one whom you may meet 


GERTRUDE OF THOLOUSE. 


301 


here. But we will not stop to see any of the inmates 
now. The countersign for this night with the sentinels 
of the guard is ‘ AbuBekr .’ Remember the uncle of the 
prophet, and you will not forget it. Now let us set 
forth/' 

By a side door Hassan led the way to a narrow lane, 
whence they emerged into a broad street, well lighted, 
and in which many people were passing to and fro 
Two only of the Fedais accompanied Hugh from the 
mosque, one of them having remained there to be 
ready to open the way in case of the need of sudden 
flight. A walk of fifteen minutes, through one of the 
most populous districts of the city, brought them to a 
sumptuous palace, which Hassan announced as the 
residence of the Emir Abu Hassa. 

“ Remain close by my side,” said Hassan, “ and fear 
no danger. Remember that my master has his serv- 
ants in the dwelling of every officer of note in Nice, 
and that a word from me to any such servant is as a 
law unto them which may not be violated. A physi- 
cian is expected here to-night to see the beautiful 
Frankish prisoner, and you are that physician. If I 
leave you, be sure I shall remain near enough to call 
you in case of need.” 

In the court of the palace Hassan's companion left 
them and took up his post near the portico, and beyond 
this the prince and his original guide proceeded alone 
together. It seemed a wonder to the Christian knight 
thus to thread the passages of the palace of the Mos- 
lem chieftain, with stern sentinels at every turn ; but 
he saw that before his guide every halbert was low- 
ered, and he passed on with a bold and unquailing 
front. Arrived at a small hall, beyond the posts of 
military sentinels, they were joined by a man who 
spoke with Hassan in the same strange tongue which 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON, 


. Hugh had heard before— the same which the Old Mail 
o£ the Mountain had addressed to his slave, and which 
the Fedais had used among themselves. A little while 
and Hassan turned to his follower : 

“ Now, my lord, everything depends upon the utmost 
care and circumspection. We are near to the chamber 
of the lady whom you seek, and my brother has con- 
trived to have our friends on the watch ; but there is 
no knowing who may come unexpectedly. Be careful 
that the lady does not behold your face until you have 
given her a word of caution, for near at hand are sure 
to be watchers whom we cannot trust. You will find 
your friend upon her couch, as a pretended illness has 
secured this interview.” 

They moved on, and pretty soon they were met by 
a female, who also spoke with Hassan in the strange 
tongue, and who directly took the seeming doctor un- 
der her charge, the old guide going no further. 

It was a small chamber, hung with curtains of green 
and crimson silk, a Turkish couch — half bed and half 
sofa— upon one side, and upon the other a dressing- 
table, upon which burned a silver lamp. Upon the 
couch lay a female form, with a light silken coverlet 
drawn up to her shoulders, one of the fair white arms 
resting upon the outside. In an instant Hugh recog- 
nized that arm — the only arm he had ever seen com- 
bining all the fairest color and outline belonging to 
the woman with the swelling of those muscles which 
denote masculine strength and vigor — all the fullness 
and laying on of firm, enduring muscle, without the 
abrupt turns and corrugations of the limb of the athlete. 
He approached carefully, yet confidently, with the col- 
lar of his tunic drawn up between his face and the 
light, and as he came to the bedside he whispered : 

“ Save my life by silence !” 


GERTRUDE OF THOULOUSE. 


303 


And as he spoke he took her hand in his strong 
grasp. 

There was a sudden gasping, as though to hold back 
the cry that had arisen for utterance, and the frame of 
the couch shook with the mighty emotion that thrilled 
its fair occupant. A little, the left hand slowly lifting 
itself to join its mate in its glad prison house, and 
then the maiden spoke in the Frankish tongue, 
which she knew none of her attendants could under- 
stand. 

“ Hugh ! Dear, dear Hugh ! I am not deceived !” 

“ No, my own Gertrude. Behold !” 

vShe looked up and saw the noble face, and a fervent 
prayer of thanksgiving went up to heaven. 

“ Let me see your tongue ?” he said, in Arabic. 

She raised her lips, and he pressed upon them a fer- 
vent, silent kiss. 

And now they knew that their interview must be 
very brief ; and that what they had to say must be 
said in the shortest possible space of time. Hugh was 
the first to hint at the, unfortunate fact, and yet he had 
many questions to ask. As for himself and for the 
friends with the Christian army, she probably knew 
already as much as he could tell, only she could not 
know how he had suffered in view of her loss. She 
could never know how his heart had ached. 

“Ah!” she said, with a sad motion of the head. 
“ You forget that I have a heart as well as you, and 
that my own sufferings may have been as great as 
yours. But enough of that. I know we have both 
suffered, Hugh ; for I know we both have loved. I 
know that my father is well ; and I know how it is 
with the army. But tell me — how is it with Peter 
of Bourbon and Arnold de la Marche, and with my 
fathers captain, Guiscard de Grillon ? Do they live ? 


304 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


Has God spared them ? Are they healthy and free 
from pain, like other men ?” 

“ They live, Gertrude ; and they are well in body ; 
but how they are within I cannot say. Oh, I have not 
done them injustice ! I have not wrongfully suspected 
them. It was through their means that you were 
dragged away from the fisher’s cot. Tell me how it 
was, my love.” 

“Thus it was, dear Hugh : On that dreadful night, 
while the storm was howling in all its fury, the two 
brothers of Bourbon came to me and told me that you 
were dead — that you had been killed in trying to save 
the horses from the wreck ; and they asked me if I 
would decide between them ; and if not between them, 
if I would give my hand to De Grillon. You know how 
I answered them. Then they threatened. They said 
there was a pirate of Tyre in the harbor of Durazzo, 
and that if I remained obstinate I should be given up 
to him. I spat upon them for an answer. I did not 
know then, but I learned afterward, that Guiscard de 
Grillon had an uncle in Nice — the Emir Abu Hassa — 
and he had planned that he would send me to that 
man. And he did so. I cannot tell you all now ; but 
I will tell you some time ; for I feel assured that I am 
to be delivered.” 

“ By God’s help you shall be, my love !” whispered 
Hugh, passionately. “ Either you go free, or we die 
here together !” 

A pressure of the hand gave token of her grati- 
tude. 

“ De Grillon detached a number — six — of his men- 
at-arms to go with me to his uncle, sending by them a 
sealed letter. That letter was fatal to them, for no 
sooner had I been safely delivered to the emir than 
they were put to death that they might never bear 


GERTRUDE OF THOULOUSE. 


305 


witness against their black-hearted commander. Yes, 
they were put to death, and I was left in the care of 
the emir ; and this was the compact : If, when the 
Christians appeared before Nice I would consent to 
marry with De Grillon, he would come in and marry 
me and give his influence toward driving the crusaders 
from the siege. If, in the end, I would not marry him, 
he would give me up entirely to the emir.” 

“ Did those knights promise that they would betray 
the Christian army ?” asked Hugh. 

“ Not quite so terrible as that,” said Gertrude. 
“ They only promised to find, if possible, some pretext 
for drawing the army away from this city. But we 
can expose them fully in good time. Their servants 
brought me hither, and here have I remained almost 
half a year. The emir thinks I am fully his, and he 
hopes to subdue me. I have somewhat angered him 
and astonished him not a little. Three days ago I 
hurled him across this apartment as though he had 
been a child ; and I have thought to put his courage 
and devotion to a final test. And in this, dear Hugh, 
I want your assistance. Now listen to me, and offer 
no objection. I wish for a suit of plate armor that 
will fit me well. Where is my jeweled hauberk ?” 

The knight did not immediately answer. He gazed 
into Gertrude’s face and thought of her meeting the 
Arabian emir in mortal conflict, for he knew full well 
the meaning of the maiden’s wish. 

“ Gertrude — ” 

She read his thought in his anxious look and with a 
quick motion of the hand she silenced him. 

“ Hugh, methinks thou hast tested the strength and 
skill of my arm and I am surprised that thou shouldst 
think of offering objection to my meeting this proud 
and lustful Arab where alone I can mold him at my 


306 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


will. Oh, if you love me, listen and obey. Tell me, 
where is my hauberk ?” 

“ I have it, Gertrude, sacredly treasured up in the 
memory of what I feared might be my lost love. I 
have it, together with the armor which you wore at 
the tournament in Paris just before we set forth for 
Rome.” 

“ And will you send it to me, Hugh — send that and 
my lance and sword ?” 

“ But who can I send these ponderous things ?” 

“ Hassan will bring them to me.” 

“ Are you sure ?” 

“ If he will not, I will not ask for them again.” 

“ By my life !” muttered the prince, half to himself. 

“ I see not how these followers of Hashishin can hold 
such sway. Every rod and staff of office, and every 
spear and halbert of sentinel, falls at their approach as 
though they were living lords of power.” 

“ It is wonderful,” returned Gertrude ; “ and yet it 
is simple, when understood. Ayisha, one of my female 
attendants, relying upon my good faith, has told me 
much of her master’s system. She is bound to him, 
as is Hassan. Did you know that this Old Man of the 
Mountain allows his soldiers to be hired by the neigh- 
boring princes ?” 

“ Yes,” said Hugh, “I have heard of that.” 

“ Well, pursued Gertrude, “ these princes and sultans 
and emperors know very well that Hashinin has a 
class of men so devoted to his will that they hold death 
in his service as a glorious thing ; and how shall the 
prince, who hires the soldiers, know that the very one, 
perhaps, who stands nearest to his body on duty, is not 
one of the Feda'is, whose dagger would be sure to find 
his heart at his master’s bidding ! Oh, it is a wonder- 
ful thing, Hugh, and sometimes when Ayisha has told 


Gertrude of thoulousE, 


m 

Hie of the doings of her people, it has sounded more 
wild and extravagant than the most fanciful of our old 
monkish legends of the genii and their works. Hassan 
is known to be a servant of Hashishin, and he is the 
one whom the Old Man has employed to bring him 
report of the condition of his soldiers, and also to col- 
lect the price of their hire of the ruler who has em- 
ployed them. So you see you may trust Hassan to do 
anything.” 

“ I see.” 

“ And you will send my arms and armors ?” 

“ Gertrude !” 

“ Hugh !” 

“ Pardon me, dearest, I will send them.” 

The maiden came very near starting up from the 
couch under the influence of the emotions born of this 
promise on the part of her lover. 

“ Oh, bless you, Hugh, bless you — bless you ! Send 
them to me as quickly as you can.” 

“ As soon as I can be sure that every plate is perfect, 
every rivet fairly headed, and every ring of the hau- 
berk intact. You shall not wait.” 

After this the conversation turned upon the subject 
which lay nearest to their hearts, and Gertrude declared 
that her faith was strong enough to give her comfort- 
ing assurance that they should yet be married in the 
Holy City. 

“ Hugh,” she said, still resting her hand in his grasp, 
“ I wish that you should say nothing of my presence 
here to any one in the Christian camp. Will you 
promise me that?” 

Hugh promised without hesitation, and shortly 
afterward he arose to take his leave. It had been told 
to him that his affianced bride would meet the Moslem 
knight in mortal combat, and he had promised that he 


308 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


would be present, with a few of his trusty companions 
in arms, to see that nothing was left undone that could 
be done toward preparing her for the conflict. He was 
to come in disguise — he and his companion knights, 
under the lead of Hassan. At first Hugh’s heart had 
quaked with the thought ; but when he came to re- 
member the maiden’s prowess, and reflected that he 
would be near, to counsel and assist, he became in a 
measure reconciled to the plan. He had wondered 
why those servants of the Assassin chieftain, who could 
do so much, could not conduct Gertrude away from 
the emir’s palace, and out from the city ; but she had 
shown him that such a thing could not be ; and he had 
come reluctantly to acknowledge it. 

At length, with a heavy heart, the prince turned 
away from the woman he so fondly loved, forced to 
give no outward sign of his passion, and obliged to 
talk with an attendant of medicine which he should 
send very shortly. He found Hassan in waiting, and 
together they left the palace. As they walked along 
the now deserted street, the prince said to his com- 
panion : 

“ Hassan, it has troubled me to conceive how the 
sultan, Kilidge Arslan, dared send men to attack a 
chief so powerful as is your master — a chief before 
whose terrible power all other powers must trem- 
ble.” 

“Aye,” answered Hassan, readily; “and there is 
the very cause of the attack. My master is watched 
most narrowly, and seldom ventures forth without a 
force sufficient for his protection. But, Sir Knight, 
suppose you had not appeared upon the scene on the 
mountain-side as you did, what would have been the 
result ?” 

“I see,” muttered Hugh. “Zounds! I was blind 


GERTRUDE OE THOULOUSE. 


30 $ 


not to recognize so simple a solution. He would have 
been conquered, and his power completely broken. 
Ah ! I little thought then how, in helping him, I was 
helping myself. But the ways of Providence are won- 
derful, and past finding out.” 

A pause, and then the knight spoke further : 

“ Hassan, do you know wherefore Gertrude sent for 
me ?” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ And can we answer her demand ?” 

“ If we live — yes.” 

“ Then hasten the time ; and God help the right /” 




CHAPTER VIII. 

THE ACCUSATION AND THE CHALLENGE. 

It was past midnight when Hugh de Vermandois 
stood again in the corridor of the old ruin by the shore 
of the lake, and here Hassan proposed to leave him. 

“You can find your way to the camp without trouble,” 
said the guide, “ and perhaps it would be as well for 
you to go alone. It might excite comment were I to 
return with you. But I will be with you when the 
armor is ready.” 

He ceased speaking, and bowed his head upon his 
hand ; and presently he resumed : 

“Sir Hugh, these are stirring times, and we know 
not what a day may bring forth. It may become 
necessary for your good that I should have free access 
to your most private quarters, even though you might 
be absent. We cannot tell what may happen, and it 
is well to be prepared.” 

“I understand,” said the prince, “ and I appreciate 
the suggestion fully. Here, take this, and it shall be 
a token upon which you will be admitted to my pres- 
ence ; or, in case of my absence, to my private apart- 
ment at any time. I will tell my servants that you 
f3‘°] 


THE ACCUSATION AND THE CHALLENGE. 


311 


have it, and they will respect its authority. Take it, 
but remember that I shall want it again when our work 
is done.” 

And the prince drew from his finger his signet ring, 
and gave it to his companion. 

“ Now, my lord, - "’ returned HasSan. as he placed the 
signet upon the finger which it fitted, “ 1 am at your 
service. You shall see me again as soon as you can 
possibly have need.” 

While Hassan waited for one of his brethren who 
had come with him, and who \yas now engaged in se- 
curing the trap, and returning the rubbish upon it, 
Hugh took his leave and set forth for the Christian 
camp. Just as he stepped from the last fragment of 
rock that marked the site of the old wall, he fancied 
that he heard a rustling sound close at hand, and as he 
stopped to listen, he saw a shadowy form glide past 
an opening in a thicket, a little to the right of his 
path. With the thought flashing upon him that this 
might be a spy set upon his motions, he sprang toward 
the place where the form had disappeared, but he could 
find nothing of it. 

Hark! Yes, it was the step of a man, hurrying 
through the tangled shrubbery ; but he did not choose 
to follow. He listened until he could hear the retreat- 
ing step no longer, and then he started once more for 
the camp, which he reached without further adventure; 
and when he arrived at his own tent he found his 
esquire fast asleep, so he undressed and retired with- 
out even calling his page to his assistance. 

In the morning the Prince of Vermandois was stir- 
ring betimes, and one of his first cares was to assemble 
his servants — those who had place immediately about 
his person and authority in his tent — and make them 
acquainted with the fact that a certain young man, a 


312 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


stranger, in fact a mountaineer, who had in possession 
his signet, was to be admitted to the tent, and to the 
most private apartments, at any and at all times when 
it might please him. Then he told the same to De St. 
Valery, and when the esquire signified a curiosity to 
know what it meant, the prince replied : 

“ Dear Walter, I am under a promise not to mention 
the business upon which this youth will wait upon me, 
but when you see him you may be able to form your 
own opinion. His name is Hassan, and I would have 
him treated as though he were, for the time, as near to 
my confidence as you are yourself.” 

De St. Valery shook his head doubtingly, as he saw 
his master walk away, and he said to himself that no 
good could come of it. The prince noticed his esquire’s 
downcast look, and he thought the faithful attendant 
was pained because another had been permitted to 
share the confidence which had been his alone for so 
many months. 

“Never mind,” he soliloquized, as he donned his sil- 
ver casque* and went forth from the tent, “he will be 
content when he sees who it is that I have thus taken 
to my favor. Zounds ! It seems hard to have a secret 
from Walter, but it. shall not be for long.” 

Very soon a dull, dead weight seemed to settle upon 
the knight's heart. The morning was bright and beau- 
tiful, one of the most lovely of that lovely clime and of 
that blissful season in the year, and yet he found no 
pleasure in it. It was as though dark phantoms hov- 
ered around him, whispering of evil, as though the 
bright sunshine were never to be a blessing to him 
more. He was walking thus when the blast of atrum- 

* Every warrior of the army wore a casque ; those of the princes were 
covered with silver; of the knights and lower nobles witli burnished steel; 
the common soldiers wearing iron. 


THE ACCUSATION AND THE CHALLENGE. 


313 


pet broke upon his ear and, upon giving his attention 
thereto, he discovered that it was from the herald of 
Godfrey de Bouillon ; and he was not a little surprised 
upon discovering that it was the signal or call for the 
assembly of the chiefs for consultation. Why should 
such an appointment have been made without his 
knowledge ? But perhaps Godfrey had done it upon 
his own responsibility. 

Godfrey, the powerful Duke of Bouillon, and one of 
the best and bravest captains the world ever saw, had 
gradually so drawn to himself the confidence of his 
fellow-knights that they had come to regard him as 
their leader. The Count of Thoulouse had worked 
hard to obtain this distinction ; and his known cour- 
age and skill in handling an army, together with his 
wealth and the vast number of men he had led to the 
East — a hundred thousand — plead strongly in his 
favor ; but his haughty and • unyielding disposition, 
added to a temper at times entirely ungovernable, 
operated to bar him out. So, too, had Bohemond, the 
noble prince of Tarentum, sought the distinction ; and 
no man of them all was better fitted for the post of 
leader. However, no leader was directly acknowledged, 
though after one attack upon Nice and two or three 
sallies from the army of the sultan that yet lay in the 
mountains, it became .very evident that some one con- 
trolling mind must be recognized in the hour of 
danger ; and with tacit consent Duke Godfrey was al- 
lowed to assume the place. 

Hugh was wending his way slowly toward the quar- 
ter of de Bouillon, when he was met by a messenger, 
who informed him that his presence was required at 
Godfrey’s tent. 

For consultation, he supposed ; and he quickened 
his step somewhat, revolving in his mind the thought 


314 GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 

of how he might put off an attack upon the city until 
he could communicate again with Gertrude. 

When he entered the spacious pavilion of De Bouillon 
he found that he was the last of the chiefs — all the 
others were there. Godfrey sat upon the throne, and 
by his side sat the Bishops Adhemar and Odo of 
Bayeux. Hugh would have smiled upon his old friends, 
but not a smile greeted him from one of their faces. 
Some lowered gloomily upon him ; some were marked 
by wonder, while others were clouded with pain and 
fear. But he was not to remain long in suspense. 

“ Hugh de Vermandois !” pronounced Godfrey, 
standing upon his feet, and knocking with his truncheon 
upon the pedestal by his side. 

Hugh, who had just seated himself, started to his 
feet. 

“ Did you call my name, Sir Godfrey ?” 

“ I called thee, Sir Hugh of Vermandois, to answer 
to a most grave and serious charge.” 

The youthful prince was as one thunderstruck. The 
words of warning which his esquire had spoken, the 
dark forms that had been lurking in his path and the 
gloom which had settled down upon his heart, in turn 
occupied his startled thoughts, and for the while his 
limbs shook with a nameless, shapeless dread. Observ- 
ing his troubled silence, Godfrey proceeded : 

“ Noble prince, well we know how thou hast been 
beloved by our army, how thou hast displayed a valor 
such as few possess, and how high is the rank thou 
holdest even now in our midst. Hence thou wilt be- 
lieve me when I tell thee that it is with pain and sor- 
row most deep and poignant that I enter upon the 
painful duty which has been imposed upon me. Hugh 
of Vermandois, thou art accused of treason to our holy 
cause !” 


THE ACCUSATION AND THE CHALLENGE. 


315 


The prince struggled for a brief space, as with some 
deadly monster that had grappled him, and then he 
took a step forward, and folded his arms upon his 
breast. 

“ My lord of Bouillon,” he demanded, in a firm, clear 
tone, what acts of treason doth this charge specify ?” 

“The main charge is, Sir Hugh, that thou art in 
league with the Emperor Alexius, who hath proved 
himself to be our enemy, to deliver into his hands the 
fruits of any victory we may achieve. In short, that 
thou art sworn to serve the Greek Emperor, instead 
of serving Jesus Christ, as we are all sworn to do 
in rescuing His holy sepulcher from the hands of the 
infidels. In connection with this, it is charged that 
thou hast had secret meetings with a Moslem chief in 
the mountains. It is. furthermore charged, that thou 
hast even been admitted to the city which we are be- 
sieging — that thou canst go in and come out at pleas- 
ure. Such are the chief of the charges against thee ; 
and God grant that thou mayest prove them false.” 

“False!" cried Hugh, with an energy that startled 
every man who heard his words. “ They are as false 
as is the heart of him who conceived them ! — as false 
as is the Father of Lies and the Enemy of God ! Who 
makes them ?” 

“Let Raymond of Thoulouse answer that,” said 
Godfrey. 

The look which Hugh turned upon Count Raymond 
made the old man tremble. 

“ Thou, Raymond ! Thou ! O had it been any other 
in all Christendom !” 

“ The charges are not mine,” exclaimed the count, 
eagerly. “ I only present them to the court of assem- 
bled knights and nobles. And I say, as said he of Bouil- 
lon, ‘ God grant that thou mayest prove them false J’ ” 


316 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


“ As yet,” said Hugh, “ I remain unanswered. I would 
face my accusers. Who are they ?” 

Godfrey answered : 

“ Listen, and thou shalt hear : They are the gentle 
knights, Guiscard, the noble Count of Grillon ; Peter, 
Marquis of Bourbon ; and Arnold, the Count de la 
Marche. They are three belted knights, and must be 
held honorable and true until proof is shown to the 
contrary. They accuse thee, Hugh de Vermandois, 
and stand pledged by their solemn oath to make their 
charges good.” 

“ An oath is an easy thing to throw upon the air,” 
replied Prince Hugh. “ Never yet did a man bear 
false witness who offered not his oath in support 
thereof. Will these gentle knights make good their 
charges with their lives ? Ask them that, my lord.” 

“ You forget, my Lord of Vermandois,” said God- 
frey, gravely shaking his head, “ that we have entered 
into a solemn compact that no difficulty of a personal 
character should be settled by a resort to arms.” 

“ My noble brother,” cried the prince, his face lighted 
by a grand enthusiasm, “ I crave your indulgence for 
one brief moment. No knight can respect the bonds 
which we have taken upon ourselves more than I do ; 
but I beg you to believe that no gentleman here pres- 
ent ever willingly relinquished the sacred right to pro- 
tect his own honor. I know that I look not upon a 
knight who would not draw his sword to protect his 
own life, even against a brother in arms. And what 
is life compared with honor ? Noble knights and 
brothers in Christ, I ask you, each and every one, did 
you, when you entered into that compact, mean to set 
up a covert, from behind which a coward might with 
impunity fling abroad his dastard, slanderous false- 
hood, answering when brought to account ; ‘ My oath 


THE ACCUSATION AND THE CHALLENGE. 


31 * 


will not let me meet you in the trial of arms.' Did you 
mean that ?” 

A simultaneous negative broke upon the air ; and of 
full a hundred knights present not more than four or 
five failed to join therein. 

After this, Hugh advanced toward the throne, and 
when he had reached the open space before it, he stood 
so that he could face both the presiding officer and the 
assembly. 

“ My lord duke and you, brothers-in-arms, hear me : 
It is said that I am in league with the Emperor Al- 
exius and that I have bound myself to support his in- 
terests against those of this Christian army. In answer 
to that I say : It is false ! You, noble Godfrey, know 
more of that business than any man here save myself, 
for ’twas you who came and set me free from the hands 
of Alexius. I had the misfortune to be wrecked upon 
a far-away coast of his dominions and was conveyed to 
his capital, where I found myself, to all intents and 
purposes, a prisoner. During my stay with him I was 
induced to pledge my word that I would not raise my 
hand against him in any conflict which might come in 
the future. And why should I not ? He was a Chris- 
tian ruler and I knew that our enemies were his ene- 
mies. I also pledged myself that our people should 
not levy upon his dominions, in any part, for forage or 
provisions. In this I was wrong, as you convinced me, 
noble Godfrey, and as I freely acknowledge. The 
Greek emperor was the first to break the faith that 
had been pledged between us, and when I found he 
had done so, I from that moment held myself absolved 
from the compact and have so conducted myself ever 
since. Godfrey de Bouillon, do I not speak truly ?” 

“ In all that I have seen, Sir Hugh, thou hast de- 
meaned thyself toward the Emperor Alexius since my 


818 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


arrival at Constantinople as became a true soldier of 
the cross.” 

So spoke the duke, and a murmur of satisfaction was 
heard from a majority of those present, though some 
shook their heads as if in doubt. 

“ Next,” said the prince, “ it is charged that I have 
held secret meetings with a Moslem chief in the moun- 
tains, and, also, that I have been admitted within the 
city of Nice, and that I can enter said city at pleaspj:e. 
Brothers, this is both true and false. It is true that I 
have met a Moslem chief in the mountains, but he was 
not a Turk, nor was he our enemy. Before God, I saved 
him from death at the hands of our mortal foes. I have 
entered the city of Nice. I have been within the walls 
once, and only once, and then I went in disguise. And 
now, in this whole matter I am alone interested, and I 
am so bound by an oath that I can not make such ex- 
planation as would give you to understand my mo- 
tives.” 

At this point Raymond of Thoulouse, instigated by 
his chief captain, arose and asked a question. He 
wished to know if Hugh had explained anything of 
this matter to his esquire, Walter de St. Valery. 

Hugh confessed that he had not. 

Whereupon the old Count of Thoulouse expressed 
himself as gravely influenced against the accused by 
this circumstance. He knew that De St. Valery had 
been Sir Hugh’s most trusty friend and companion ; 
and he could not but doubt the propriety of an inter- 
course with the enemy, and that, too, in the enemy’s 
own camp, which the prince dared not expose to his 
best and truest friend. He could not but believe that 
there was something wrong when such things appeared 
confessed upon the surface. 

Oh, in that moment how the prince wished that he 


THE ACCUSATION ANT) THE CHALLENGE. 310 

could whisper only one single word into the old noble’s 
ear ! But this solemn promise withheld him, and he 
could only let the count — the father of his betrothed — 
remain in darkness and doubt. 

“ Companions in arms,” said Hugh, when Raymond 
had resumed his seat, “ I can offer you but one solution 
to the mystery. And now, in the name of that Saviour 
whose sacred banner I have had the honor to bear, I 
bid you hear me. I am so situated that I cannot now 
make known to you those things which would at once 
remove every doubt, and fix the crime of treason upon 
others than myself ; for, before God, there are traitors 
here ! As for me, I am innocent. I swear it by the 
God we all unite in worshiping ! And if my life is 
spared a few short days, I may be able freely to pre- 
sent to you all that you could ask to know. In the 
meantime I will maintain my innocence with lance, 
sword and ax, in the saddle and on foot. And I here- 
by challenge my accusers to make good their accusa- 
tion, as they have promised. I will meet them as they 
shall elect ; the fight shall be to the death, unless con- 
fession is made ; and a cry for mercy shall be held to 
be a confession in full. So cast I my case upon the 
issue of battle, and may God protect the right.” 

Thus speaking, Hugh drew off his gantlet, and cast 
it down upon the ground at the foot of the throne, and 
then moved back to his seat. 

For a few second's a silence like unto death reigned 
in the pavilion, for every heart seemed hushed and 
every breath suspended. Hugh de Vermandois was, 
next to Tancred of Otranto, accounted the best knight 
in the army ; and who should dare meet him ? 

A little while, and then Guiscard de Grillon, followed 
by Peter of Bourbon and Arnold of the Marche, arose 
and advanced to the space which Hugh had left. 


320 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


Guiscard picked up the gantlet, and then said : 

“ With lance and sword and ax, in the saddle or on 
foot, will I make good my charge against Hugh of 
Vermandois. And may God protect the right !” 

His voice faltered, and with the call upon God on 
his lips he came very near breaking down ; but he got 
through with it and then passed the gantlet to Peter 
of Bourbon, who went through with the same cere- 
mony, as did Arnold de la Marche after him ; the last 
knight, when he had concluded, laying the gantlet 
upon the pedestal by the side of the president’s trunch- 
eon, whence Hugh came and took it. 

It had been marked by all who had witnessed the 
scene that the accusers had not spoken like men who 
had faith in themselves. There had been a hesitancy 
and a trembling and a blanching of the lips, such as 
might be expected in those who invoked a blessing, 
feeling assured that a curse would come instead 
thereof. 

But the die had been cast, and the hour fixed for the 
combat was the tenth hour of that self-same day ; and 
the heralds were instructed to make proclamation 
thereof throughout the camp. 

Said Robert, Count of Flanders : 

“ Be sure our noble prince will vindicate himself 
right gallantly.” 

But the other Robert — he of Normandy — shook his 
head with doubt. 

“ God’s will be done ! But I fear me the prince is 
not equal to the combat. He has been very ill and he 
is not yet strong. If he overcomes the first adversary 
he shall fight no more.” 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE PAGE’S ANTECEDENTS. 

Tancred, Prince of Otranto, a knight whose single 
arm was good against a full squadron of Turks, could 
not believe that the gallant Frank ever entertained a 
thought of treason against the interests of the Chris- 
tian army. The very idea was to him preposterous ; 
and yet he doubted if Hugh would maintain himself 
against the knight of Grillon. 

“ My dear brother,” he said, holding our hero by the 
hand, “ will you not let me take your place ? If you 
will consent, and your enemies will consent, I will 
meet the three at one and the same time. Aye, I ’ll 
meet them, and I ’ll smite their perjured tongues to 
silence for ever after ! Good Hugh, I fear me thou 
art not fit for this joust. Thy face shows full well that 
dire sickness hath been upon thee.” 

Hugh de Vermandois thanked the noble-hearted 
Italian with moistened eyes ; but he could not accept 
the proffered assistance. 

“ To tell the truth, Tancred, I am weaker than I 
thought ; but I am not so weak that Guiscard de Gril- 
lon can hold a lance firmly against me. Fear not, my 
brother, God will not forsake the right. But tell me, 

[321] 


322 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


what hast thou heard of this abominable evidence that 
hath been trumped up against me ? Upon my soul, it 
was all new to me when I heard it this day. Be free, 
good Tancred, and tell me all thou knowest.’ 

And thereupon the Prince of Otranto told to Hugh 
the things which he had heard, many of them surpris- 
ing de Vermandois beyond measure. The conversa- 
tion was long and earnest, and at the close Hugh took 
the Italian by the hand, saying unto him : 

“ Tancred, would to God I were at liberty to expose 
this whole thing to thine understanding ; but I am 
not. Were I alone interested, I could speak ; but I 
am serving another — one who looks to me alone of all 
the world for succor and support. If I fall, I shall fall 
in the service of a friend ; and when the truth is known, 
thou shalt say that Hugh de Vermandois did most 
sacredly maintain his knightly duty/’ 

Hugh walked slowly and thoughtfully toward his 
tent, a new trouble having come upon him from the 
speech of Tancred. Upon entering the outer apart- 
ment of his pavilion he found no one there, and with- 
out waiting for his page he laid off his surcoat and 
hauberk, and passed on to the inner apartment, where 
he slept, and where he received his brother chiefs for 
private confab. The partition between the main 
pavilion and this sanctum was four fold, consisting of 
two double sets of heavy damask curtains. 

As he entered the last-mentioned apartment on the 
present occasion, he found his page there, engaged in 
arranging the furniture upon the ebony sideboard. 
Upon this board were the knight’s minor dressing im- 
plements, his metallic mirror and several flasks of 
wine which he had brought with him from Constanti- 
nople, and which he had ordered brought out for use on 
the present occasion. 


THE PAGE’S ANTECEDENTS. 


323 


“ Roland, what dost thou here ?” 

“ I came to bring the wine, as you bade me, my 
lord,” answered the page. He was a comely lad, 
bright and intelligent, but possessing a sharp, rest- 
less eye which his master never quite liked. On the 
present occasion he trembled excessively, and dared 
not meet his lord’s gaze, hanging his head, and casting 
anxious glances toward the heavy arras, as though he 
wished he were far away. 

“And how long hast thou been engaged in that 
simple work, boy ? Roland ! By my life, thou hast 
been doing some evil.” 

As the knight thus spoke he moved toward the 
sideboard, and observed one of the flasks with its 
stopper started. The boy saw his movement and saw 
him place his hand upon the broken flask ; whereupon 
he cried out beseechingly : 

“ Oh, pardon, my good lord ! I swear to thee I 
drank but a single drop. I know it was wrong, very 
wrong ; but I thought not of the evil until I had done 
the deed. My father used to give me wine, and I loved 
it ; and when I saw that — ” 

“Never mind,” broke in the knight, impatiently. “ I 
will pardon thee this once, Roland ; and hereafter, 
when thy thirst is strong, and thou cravest a draught 
of light wine, come to me boldly, and ask for it ; but 
never play thief again. It is a small offense ; but 
these habits are apt to grow with one’s growth, if not 
nipped in the bud. Go, now, and send St. Valery to 
me.” 

The page hurried away, and ere long the esquire 
made his appearance, wearing a cloud of deep anxiety 
upon his brow. 

“Walter, thou art gloomy.” 

“ Aye. my lord, thou speakest truly. A deeper gloom 


324 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


never found seat upon my heart. Thou art not fit for 
this ordeal thou hast invited.” 

“ Pshaw ! If that rests heavily upon thy mind, then 
I pray thee cast it off, for I do assure thee that I am 
strong and well. At all events I am strong enough 
for the work before. Let that pass, good Walter, and 
lend me thine ear upon another matter. Art thou 
ready to listen ?” 

“ I am all attention, my lord.” 

“ Walter, I have been conversing with Tancred, and 
he hath told me things that not only surprised me, but 
which gave me pain and unrest. I asked him to tell 
me what things he had heard of evidence against me ; 
whereupon he told me of circumstances which I had 
supposed were known only to you and myself.” 

“ My lord.” 

“ I have spoken, Walter. Tancred was in possession 
of information which should never have been known 
outside of my own tent.” 

“ Do you know where he got it, my lord ?” 

“ I judged from the manner of his speech, that he 
obtained it of my enemies.” 

“ My lord,” spoke Walter, trembling with emotion, 
and giving token of deepest pain, “ have you held a 
suspicion against me — against your own Walter?” 

“ O my God ! No, no, no !” cried the prince, all his 
suspicions vanishing the instant he met the tearful, 
agonized look of his friend. “ I could not suspect you, 
Walter ; and yet, what can I think ? How came 
Guiscard de Grillon to know so precisely my most secret 
movements ?” 

St. Valery drew a light stool near to his master's 
side, and having gone to see that no one lurked near 
the arras, he returned and sat down. 

“ My lord,” he said, in a low and careful tone, ‘ { since 


THE PAGE’S ANTECEDENTS. 


325 


these things are known, it is very evident there has 
been treachery in your own quarter ; and not only so, 
but ears have heard which had no business to hear. 
What think you of Roland ?” 

“ Of my page ?” returned Hugh, with a start. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Walter, what of him ?” 

“ Indeed, my lord, I cannot yet say, but I do much 
doubt him. Whence came he ?” 

The prince gazed into his esquire’s face at first with 
a blank expression, but with light gradually breaking 
over his bold frank countenance. 

“ He was the Lady Gertrude’s page,” he said, after 
a pause, and still reflecting as he continued, half to 
himself — “he was Gertrude’s page and came with her 
from Languedoc.” 

“ I think,” added Walter, “ a lad of her father’s se- 
lection.” 

“ Very likely.” 

“ Have you ever marked a resemblance between the 
boy and Guiscard de Grillon ?” 

“Ha !” 

Hugh was startled. He had never thought of the 
thing, but it appeared to him now. 

“ Is not Roland of the house of Grillon ?” the esquire 
continued, in a whisper. 

“ By my faith, he is,” cried Hugh, smiting his fist 
upon his thigh. “ How could I have been so forgetful ? 
And yet there is no wonder, for it was of no particular 
interest to me when I heard it, and I did not lay it up 
in my memory. But it comes back to me now. I re- 
member that at Philip’s court one evening, when a few 
of us had remained quite late, this thing transpired : 
The king had observed Gertrude’s page and had taken 
a liking to him, and on this evening, in a half-playful 


326 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


manner, but yet willing to abide by his offer, he asked 
the princess if she would not give Roland up to him ; 
whereupon Gertrude answered that the lad was of 
gentle birth and had been given into her charge that 
he might be trained up to arms and at a proper time 
bo admitted to the estate of an esquire. And when the 
king asked her of what house he came, she answered: 
‘ De Grillon !’ ” 

“ Then,” said Walter, in a tone of relief, and yet with 
much concern, “ we may be assured that the boy is the 
traitor. I now can understand many things that have 
heretofore appeared strange to me. I can now com- 
prehend why the lad has evinced so much interest 
when De Grillon’s name has been mentioned, and 1 
can swear, too, that I have not been mistaken when I 
have fancied that his brow lowered and his eyes 
snapped vindictively when I have denounced Ray- 
mond’s captain as a false and treacherous knight.” 

The prince arose and took a few turns up and down 
the open space, and when he stopped there was some- 
thing like a smile on his face. He laid his hand upon 
his esquire’s arm and said : 

“ As yet, Walter, there may have been no great harm 
done, and this discovery has given me joy rather than 
pain ; for it has opened to my knowledge that thou, 
my dear brother, art true and faithful. So let us for 
the present pass it by. with the understanding that 
henceforth the young traitor is to be watched. That 
he is in De Grillon’s service secretly, I am fully per- 
suaded ; and. when we can bring the deed home upon 
him, there shall be such a reckoning as is meet. So 
much for Roland. And now, my Walter, I would have 
you look to my armor. Time flies, and the trumpet of 
the herald will ere long call us to the lists.” 

While Walter went to look to the armor, Hugh sat 


the page’s antecedents. 327 

down at his little table, and having produced a piece of 
fine vellum, he brought forth pen and ink, and pre- 
pared to write. Writing was not, in those days, a 
necessary accomplishment for a knight ; and many a 
brave and gallant noble, belted and spurred by the 
hand of royalty — aye, many a ruler over castles and 
cities — knew of writing barely sufficient to enable him 
to put his monogram to the official documents and 
epistolary correspondence which some monkish clerk 
had prepared. But Hugh de Vermandois, like Stephen 
of Blois and Chartres, was a man of letters, as well as 
a man of war. The many knights who knew nothing 
of reading and writing were able to point to the noble 
and wealthy Count de Blois, and show that the lover of 
letters was not a lover of battles ; for it was true that 
Stephen was often timid in the midst of conflict, and 
was but a poor captain. But such could not be said 
of Hugh. A true lover of polite literature, he was the 
very bravest among the brave ; and in battle his pres- 
ence was worth a thousand stout men led by twenty 
lances. 

Hugh sat down and wrote upon the vellum. He 
wrote carefully and slowly, ever and anon holding back 
his pen for reflection. Finally, the work was done ; 
and when the prince had read what he had written, he 
attached his signature in full, after which the missive 
was folded and securely bound with a silken cord. 
Then he called for a candle, and when this had been 
brought, he melted a piece of wax, with which he 
sealed the packet wherever the turns of the cord crossed 
each other. 

When Walter next entered the inner tent, the prince 
handed to him the sealed missive. 

“Good Walter, we may not be too sure of what the 
Father in heaven will do ; and since I realize that I 


328 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


am a child in His Almighty hands and that he may do 
with me as seemeth to Him best, I have thought fit to 
put in writing those few things which at present rest 
alone within my knowledge, and which I am not now 
at liberty to divulge — the very few circumstances of 
all the life I have lived which are not open to the in- 
vestigation of the whole world. They are written here, 
Walter, and into your hands I give them. If it please 
God to take me from the work of this holy crusade — ” 

“ My master, in God’s name, give it not to me !” 

“ How, Walter, would you that another should serve 
me in this ?” 

“ No, no — oh, no. You mistake, Sir Hugh. I mean 
that you shall not go into the lists this day. This very 
emotion, which bids you make preparation for death, 
showed to me that you. are not yourself. Thou art not 
the warrior chief, but thou art a man sick and faint 
from — ” 

“ Tush ! Ye gods ! And thinkest thou that this good 
right arm hath forgotten its cunning? No ! I swear 
to thee by the heaven above me that for a full hour I 
can bear myself as stoutly as ever ! But, Walter, the 
business is of grave importance ; and we know not 
what of accident may transpire. Who can tell that my 
own horse may not faint and fall and crush me to 
death. Take the packet and keep it sacredly. If I fall, 
you will retain it until my body has been consigned to 
its mother earth, and then you will give it to Duke 
Robert of Normandy, for him and Tancred to open 
and read it at their pleasure. You will observe that it 
is addressed to both ; but as Robert is my country- 
man, let him take precedence. If you love me, speak 
not another word of objection. It only gives me pain.” 

Walter took the missive and put it away in his 
bosom ; and it rested there a painful, heavy burden. 


THE PAGE’S ANTECEDENTS. 


329 


Had it been his master’s death-warrant, he could not 
have shuddered more when he felt it pressing against 
his heart. 

Hark ! The herald of Godfrey de Bouillon blows a 
blast that startles the camp from every thought and 
purpose of rest ; and ere long armed knights begin to 
gather upon the tilting ground. 

A knight, armed cap-a-pie , and mounted upon a pow- 
erful coal-black stallion, rides up to the entrance of 
the tent of the Prince De Vermandois. Presently the 
prince came forth, and demanded to know what knight 
had thus come, without device upon his shield or crest 
upon his helm. 

The knight raised his vizor, and Hugh beheld the 
honest face of Robert of Normandy. 

“ My brother,” said the duke, “thou didst refuse the 
offer of our noble Tancred ; but, I pray thee, refuse 
not mine. Let me take up this cause. The chiefs are 
all willing — every man of them.” 

Hugh de Vermandois took the hand of his noble 
friend and pressed it to his lips. 

“ Robert, God will bless thee for thy love in this 
dark hour ; but I cannot accept thine offer. Hush ! 
Say no more. Come in and pledge me in the sacra- 
mental cup, and then to the lists.” 

Robert of Normandy dismounted and followed the 
prince into the sanctum, where the latter produced the 
sacred cup — a silver goblet, which the Pope had blessed 
and dedicated to sacramental use — and having filled it 
from the open flask upon the board, they both drank, 
with benedictions upon their lips. As it chanced that 
the duke was somewhat athirst, and as the wine pleased 
him much, he set aside the sacramental cup, and filled 
a large goblet from the flask, which he emptied with 
grateful appetite. 


330 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


When the northern knight had thus quenched his 
thirst, they passed out into the court, where Walter 
had led up his master’s horse ; and shortly afterward 
they were on their way to the lists. 

“ Tell me, Hugh — oh, tell me truly ; dost thou feel 
equal to this work ?” 

“ Aye ; my good right arm was never stronger.” 

So answered the prince to Robert’s earnest ques- 
tion ; but, even as he spoke, a cold hand seemed laid 
upon his heart, and to himself he said : “ Would to 

God this illness were further removed !” 




CHAPTER X. 

THE BATTLE. 

The list of the Christian camp before Nice set apart 
for military exercise and sports was one hundred full 
yards in width, by a hundred and forty yards in 
length. It was surrounded on all sides by a barrier 
of palisades, through which were three entrances 
guarded by hinged gates ; one upon the side where 
the high platform was raised, upon which the master 
and his associates sat, and where also were seats for 
such gentle dames and maidens as chose to attend ; 
and one at each end, guarded by sentinels, where the 
the combatants entered. And at each end of the list, 
too, just outside the barrier, was a small shed commu- 
nicating with the list by a wicket. 

As the dial announced that the tenth hour of the 
day had arrived, the herald made proclamation of 
the battle and its cause. In the quaint wording of the 
chivalric language of the time, he announced that 
Hugh, Prince of Vermandois, having been accused of 
the high crime of treason by the noble knights, Guis- 
card de Grillon, Peter of Bourbon and Arnold de la 
Marche, and not feeling himself at liberty, in honor, 
to expose those circumstances which would prove his 

[33 1 J 



332 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


innocence, did offer his body to the judgment of God ; 
and he would then and there meet in battle such one 
of his accusers as chose to offer himself to the proof. 

Then came another blast of the trumpet, and the 
herald proclaimed that by the laws of chivalry, made 
to protect the weak against the strong, the church- 
man against the warrior, and age against youthful 
vigor, either of the parties had the right of a salvo. A 
substitute would be accepted, and the knight so offer- 
ing himself for the party accused, or for the party 
accusing, should be held in all respects as maintaining 
the cause as truly and justly as though the responsible 
knight were in the field. 

A long silence followed this announcement, during 
which many eyes were turned anxiously toward the 
shed, or pavilion, occupied by the Prince of Verman- 
dois. But no advantage was likely to be taken of the 
privilege, and ere long the trumpet awoke the air with 
another blast, and directly Hugh de Vermandois, ac- 
companied by his esquire, rode forth from his pavilion 
and having reached the area in front of the master’s 
dais, he raised his visor and bowed his head. 

“ My lord,” he said, “ I am ready for the judgment, 
and before God and man I proclaim my cause honor- 
able and just. I have only one favor to crave. Make 
all possible haste, I beseech you. Let no needless 
ceremony delay the more important matter.” 

“ By my soul !” cried the Prince of Otranto, as Hugh 
lowered his visor and turned away, “ I like not the 
looks of that face. Did you mark how pale it was ?” 

“ Yes,” answered Godfrey, “ I marked it well. Surely 
the prince is ill.” 

“ 111 and foolish,” added Tancred. “ He should have 
accepted the salvo.” 

At this point the conversation was stopped by the 


THF, BATTLE. 


‘6'6'S 


appearance of the three accusers, who made an an- 
nouncement similar to that which Hugh had made. 

“ Guiscard de Grillon,” spoke Tancred, who had 
been selected as one of the umpires for the occasion 
“ thou ridest the first tilt ?” 

“ I do, my lord prince.” 

“ Then mark me. It is well known to us all that the 
Prince of Vermandois hath lately been very ill. In 
sorrow I declare that thine oath doth not require thee 
to regard that accident in the onset. But I tell thee 
that thou shalt take no advantage in the fall. Mark 
well the truncheon of the master, and strike no blow 
after it shall have fallen. If thou shalt so much as 
gripe a limb of thine adversary in temper, after a 
truce hath been sounded, thou shalt meet Tancred of 
Otranto in that hour.” 

With a muttering of honorable intent De Grillon and 
his companions rode away, the latter retiring from the 
list, while the former took his station at the end oppo- 
site that which Hugh had taken. 

The herald then made the final proclamation. The 
combatants might continue the conflict on horseback 
until three lances had been broken, unless one of them 
should be unhorsed before. Then the fight should be 
with axes to the end, unless one of them should prefer 
the sword, in which case the other should throw down 
the heavier weapon, and take the lighter. The dagger 
was not to be used under any circumstances, nor should 
one strike a blow while the other was lower down than 
upon his knees. 

“ Herald, sound the charge ! And may God protect 
the right.” 

Hugh grasped his lance, bearing the point directly 
between his horse’s ears, and as the last blast came 
cracking upon the air he touched the rowel lightly, and 

r 


334 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


the eager steed, well used to the work, darted forth 
iike a bolt. Near the center of the list the combatants 
met* and both lances were so shaken as to be useless, 
that of De Grillon having come in contact with the 
edge of the other’s buckler, while Hugh’s shaft had 
been shivered upon his adversary’s shoulder, loosening 
the upper vambrace, so that it hung by only one 
rivet. 

“ By the mass !” cried Tancred, turning to Robert of 
Normandy, who had taken a seat by his side. “ Our 
good Hugh rode that bout right stoutly.” 

“ Aye, that he did,” returned the duke. “ He ob- 
tained his favorite stroke, and if De Grillon’s vambrace 
had not given way the captain would have been un- 
horsed. I look to see the prince take his antagonist’s 
helm the next time, and if he does the doughty captain 
will go to the ground. God save the right !” 

Tancred had turned his gaze upon the list, when 
something which he had seen in his companion’s face 
caused him to look again. 

“ How now, good Robert ? By my soul ! Thou art 
pale and thine eye lacks its wonted fire.” 

“ I know not what it is, Tancred,” replied Robert, 
shaking himself. “ A sudden sickness hath come upon 
me — a sort of dimness of the vision and a dizziness, 
but I think it will soon pass away. Ha ! See ! Hugh 
raises his visor for air. I like not that.” 

The charge was sounded again, and this time Hugh 
de Vermandois, with one mighty effort, summoning 
every atom of strength remaining, couched his lance 
for the final onset, for he knew that he could not ride 
another. He had become so sick that his stomach re- 
belled, and it required almost superhuman effort to 
prevent his head swimming. With the first reverber- 
ation of the final call he plied the rowel more deeply. 


THE BATTLE. 


335 


than before, and the powerful steed bounded forth with 
a wild, defiant snort. 

Ha ! De Grillon' surely thought that his antagonist 
had his eye upon that exposed shoulder, and to the 
protection of that he gave his buckler, for he had not 
repaired the broken plate, and a wound there would 
paralyze his sword-arm. But he reckoned without his 
host. His own lance had touched the opposing buck- 
ler, and he had closed the fingers of his left hand more 
firmly upon the becket of his shield, when, like a flash, 
a bright point swept before his eyes. It all came in 
an instant — the flash, the instinct of dodging some un- 
seen danger, and the shock of the meeting horses — a 
shock that shook the very earth, whirling up a cloud of 
dust, that for a time concealed the combatants from 
view. 

“ I’ faith !” cried Tancred, leaping to his feet, “ one 
of them is unhorsed.” 

“ Aye,” responded Robert of Normandy, also starting 
up. “ Ha ! See ! Our noble Hugh rides forth from 
the cloud !” Whereupon, though forced to resume 
his seat on account of the dreadful nausea at his 
stomach, he joined in the thunders of applause that 
arose from every part of the surrounding throng. 

According to the strict rules of the time, the Prince 
de Vermandois might have retained his seat in his 
saddle, and forced his antagonist to fight on foot, but 
he chose not to do it. So he got down from his horse, 
and having given the rein into Walter’s hand, he took 
his ax and advanced to the center of the list, where he 
stood until his antagonist was ready, meanwhile rais- 
ing his visor for more fresh air. 

As for Guiscard de Grillon, the point of the lance 
had struck him upon the left side of the head, enter- 
ing between the hinge of the visor and the solid wall 


336 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


of the helm, lifting him bodily from his seat, and so 
bruising the head-piece that its owner was forced to 
take a new one. The shock had been considerable ; 
and for some little time after he had gained his feet he 
staggered to and fro like a drunken man. But he came 
around at length, and with his ax in hand he hastened 
to meet his opponent. 

When he saw Hugh de Grillon ready to advance, he 
let his visor fall without hooking it. Whether he for- 
got thus to secure it in its place, or whether he cared 
not, those who noticed it could not then judge. The 
moment the visor had fallen he closed his grasp upon 
his ax and raised the heavy blade from the ground. He 
sought to sway it as was his wont, but he could only 
lift it even with his crest, and when he thought to 
strike at the coming man it refused to advance, and 
fell, with a dull thud, upon his shoulder. 

“Oh, give me but one more moment of power for the 
right !” 

Under the inspiration of the prayer his arm was 
nerved to its work for a brief space, though he had no 
clear idea of what he was doing. He knew that his 
body was in motion — that darkness came upon his 
senses — that a thundering crash followed, benumbing 
every fiber of his system, and that he then sank — 
down, down, down into the death of sense. 

Once, when the ax of the prince had fallen back 
upon his shoulder, Robert of Normandy, finding ready 
sympathy in his own strange dizziness, had declared 
that the man was powerless for further battle ; but in 
a moment more, when he sprang forward and dealt 
the knight of Grillon a blow that staggered him, the 
feeling changed. But it changed only'for a very brief 
space. 

“Ye gods of right and justice!” cried Tancred. 


THE RATTLE. 


337 


“ See him stagger backward without being stricken ! 
See! See! His strength is going — going, ’t is 
gone !” 

With his ax drooping and his buckler raised to cover 
his body, Hugh was staggering backward, while de 
Grillon followed him up closely, his weapon raised for 
a downward stroke. 

“ Hugh de Vermandois, dost thou surrender ?” 

De Grillon repeated the demand twice ; and then, 
receiving no answer, and seeing that the prince was 
evidently about ready to fall, he struck. He had de- 
termined that he would not miss the finishing stroke ; 
and those who saw the ax descend, knew full well 
that his intent had been to cleave the skull from 
crown to chine ; and so he would have done, had the 
blow been fairly delivered. But he had waited the 
quarter part of a second too long. Just at the moment 
when De Grillon had started the weapon, the prince’s 
heel caught upon a stone, and he stumbled backward, 
and the outer corner of the descending blade struck 
the bars of his visor and clipped a bit of the lower 
edge of the gorget. As quick as thought the ax was 
raised again, but the cry of indignation from the 
multitude, joined with the command of the master, 
restrained his hand. 

Those who were first beside the fallen prince ex- 
pected to find his face severely cut, but in this they 
were agreeably disappointed. Save the slashing of 
the visor and the dent upon his gorget, not a plate, 
bar or rivet of his armor had been injured, and not a 
bruise was to be found upon his body anywhere. And 
yet he was so truly like one dead, that the leeches who 
had gathered .around him were not able to decide 
whether he were dead or living. 

The three accusers advanced to the dais, and de- 


338 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


manded of the judge that their case should be given 
them. 

“ It is the finger of God upon a guilty man !” ex- 
claimed De Grillon, with fierce energy. 

Whereupon Robert of Normandy arose, and de- 
manded that the decision be reserved. 

“ I, too,” he cried, “ see the finger of God in the 
work ! But hath God stricken him down because of 
his guilt, or has He thus snatched the weak and faint- 
ing prince from the death which his enemies had hoped 
to inflict, even after it was known that sense had left 
him ? My lord and gentlemen interested, if it shall 
please God to restore Hugh de Vermandois to life, I 
am sure that we shall be able to expose to you a plot 
so dark and so fiendish that you will stand transfixed 
with horror !” 

Guiscard de Grillon observed how pale the Norman 
chieftain was, and for a little while his knees smote- 
with fear ; but rallying as quickly as possible, he re- 
gained his bold front, and again demanded that the 
judgment of God should be rendered in behalf of him- 
self and his companions. 

All eyes were turned upon Tancred, as he was the 
man who had thus far succeeded in rendering satis- 
factory solution to difficult problems. Seeing that 
Godfrey himself at length appealed to him, he arose 
and spoke : 

“ My Lord of Bouillon, and you, my brethren in 
arms, what have we to decide ? What was the condi- 
tion of this battle? Hugh de Vermandois offered his 
body to his accusers, swearing that by the issue would 
he abide. If they proved upon his body that their 
cause was just, he would bow to the result. And what 
have they proved ? Nothing ! There has not been 
delivered upon the body of the prince a blow that 


THE BATTLE. 


339 


could stagger a child ; but on the contrary, he hath 
unhorsed his antagonist most gallantly, and that, too, 
while so weak that he could scarce hold himself erect. 
Our noble prince did unhorse his opponent and drive 
him to the ax. At this juncture a new power entered 
the list, and, directly seizing De Vermandois, did lay 
him upon the bosom of the earth as one dead. What 
hath his enemy done of all this ? I say the combat is 
postponed, agreeably to the laws of chivalry, which 
declare that no man shall be bound by an oath when 
it doth sufficiently appear that the hand of God hath 
incapacitated him for the keeping thereof.” 

This simple speech settled the matter ; and all won- 
dered that they had not seen it in that light at first. 
So the heralds were instructed to make proclamation 
that the battle had been put off to some future 
time. 

In the meantime Hugh had been taken to his tent, 
where the best physicians of his own army attended 
upon him. They shook their heads gravely when they 
observed the matter which the prince vomited up. 
They had been satisfied that, in addition to other ills, 
there was something unusual upon his stomach, and a 
powerful emetic brought it away. There were three 
of the doctors, and one of them, Alberic of Montrillon, 
had been for many years a physician in attendance upon 
the king of France. After conversing a while with his 
companions in ominous secrecy, Alberic touched Walter 
upon the shoulder and beckoned him to follow. He led 
the way to the outer pavilion, where he made sure that 
they were alone, and then spoke : 

“ Walter de St. Valery, I know that thou art warmly 
attached to thy master, and that on no account wouldst 
suffer evil to approach him, if ’twere in thy power to 
prevent it ; but evil is a serpent of such subtle instinct 


340 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


that too often we know not when it conies nor how. 
Now answer me, Walter. Since yesterday morning 
have any of Sir Hugh’s enemies had admission to his 
tent ?” 

“ No, sir, I am sure they have not.” 

“ Have his enemies sent any messengers ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Art sure ?” 

“ I am very sure.” 

“Then, Walter, answer me this. In the prince’s 
immediate household — that is, among those who have 
access to his person— is there even one whom you 
could suspect for a moment of treachery, provided a 
great inducement were held out ?” 

Walter knew that the old physician was one of his 
master’s truest and most honored friends ; and under 
such circumstances he felt justified in speaking 
plainly. 

“ Why do you hesitate, Walter ?” 

“ I was reflecting, sir, and I will show you that my 
cogitation hath not been entirely without result.” 

And thereupon the esquire related in full the con- 
versation he had held with his master concerning the 
page Roland, at the same time expressing the firm 
belief that the lad had played the traitor more than 
once. 

The cloud of doubt and anxiety was banished from 
the physician’s brow, and his voice was even cheerful 
as he replied to Waiter : 

“ I thank you for this, my friend, and in turn I can 
assure you that your master is beyond all danger. I 
have given him a medicine that will overcome all 
trouble, and when he revives I look to see him come 
forth quite like himself. And now tell me, did your 
master drink any wine before going out to the list ?” 


THE BATTLE. 


341 


“Yes; he and Robert of Normandy came in and 
partook together.” 

Alberic started, gazed into the esquire’s face with a 
blank expression, as though his thoughts were wan- 
dering, and then laid his hand nervously upon Walter’s 
arm. 

“ Robert of Normandy came in ?” he whispered, 
strangely excited. 

“ Yes.” 

“ And drank with the prince ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Is there any of the wine left ?” 

“ A little.” 

“ Then I pray you keep it. No, no ; let me have it, 
and I will take it away with me.” 

They returned to the inner apartment, where Walter 
took down the bottle, and found a very small quantity 
of the wine remaining. This Alberic took, and having 
looked once more at his patient, he directed the esquire 
how to proceed, and then called his companions to 
come away. 

“ If the prince wants wine — and a small quantity 
may benefit him — be careful and open a flask which 
you are sure has not been before unsealed. I will call 
on the morrow.” 

This the physician spoke to Walter in the outer 
pavilion, in a tone which could not reach other ears ; 
and having expressed the belief that Hugh would re- 
vive in a very few hours, he took his leave. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE PAGE’S CONFESSION. 

During the remainder of the night Walter sat by his 
master’s couch, though he did not pretend to sit all the 
while with open eyes ; but if he suffered himself to fall 
away occasionally into slumber, he was careful to place 
himself in such a position that the slightest movement 
on the part of the invalid would arouse him. When the 
day had broken, and the first bright beams had pene- 
trated the pavilion, the esquire bethought him that he 
had better arouse the cooks, and see that a delicate 
broth was being prepared, which the physician had 
ordered for his patient. He saw that the knight was 
still sleeping, and with a noiseless step he made his 
way out from the pavilion, and went to the quarters of 
the servants. 

No sooner had Walter left the apartment where his 
master lay, than the page, who had been apparently 
waiting in the outer pavilion, hidden away so that the 
esquire did not observe him, glided stealthily in, and 
having assured himself that the prince was asleep, he 
moved to the sideboard and began to search for some- 
[ 342 ] 


THE PAGE’S CONFESSION. 


343 


thing there. There were two flasks, and these he took 
down and examined ; and when he had replaced them 
he seemed to search for a third, but he could not find it. 

“Death and confusion !” he ejaculated, after he had 
looked in every place where a flask could have been put, 
“ some one has taken it away ! God grant that they 
have not discovered the secret. Oh, I wish I had not 
done it ! I might have used my ears and my tongue, 
but ’twas cruel thus to repay with almost certain death 
the noble lord who hath so truly befriended me ! 
Where can it be ? The physicians have been here. Old 
Alberic was here. If he hath taken it away then I am 
undone !” 

At this moment the prince moved upon his couch 
and called for Walter. Quick as thought the page 
dropped upon his hands and knees and crawled away. 
And he had not much time to spare, for presently the 
knight sat up in his bed and looked around. 

Walter de St. Valery spent more time than he 
thought with the servants, for he was anxious that the 
broth should be properly prepared, and he waited to 
see the ingredients put together. ' When he returned, 
he was not a little surprised upon beholding that his 
master had arisen and taken a seat upon one of the 
stools. 

“ My lord, I fear thou art doing a dangerous thing. 
I left thee but now fast asleep, having been by thy 
side since thou wert brought hither. When I saw the 
day had broken I went to call the cooks that they 
might prepare a broth which Alberic recommended 
for you.” 

“ Bless you, good Walter, for your care and kindness, 
but fear not that I am in danger. By my soul, I feel 
very well and I think the savory broth of which thou 
speakest will give me new strength. Think not of me, 


344 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


Walter. Go about thy business, if thou hast any and 
bring me the pottage when it is ready.” 

The esquire believed that Hugh would be alone, so 
he withdrew, and found matters without to absorb his 
time until the head cook announced that the broth was 
ready. Fixing the mess in as attractive a style as pos- 
sible, Walter bore it in and set it upon the small table, 
and then took one of the sealed flasks of wine and 
opened it. 

Hugh found the mess very palatable, and he partook 
with more relish than he had experienced for a long 
while. When he had eaten and had drunk a small 
measure of wine, he felt quite revived and his step, as 
he paced up and down the pavilion, was firm and 
steady, though far from being vigorous. 

Thus far, since he had arisen from his couch, he had 
been thoughtful and moody, and Walter had marveled 
much that he did not speak with him upon the subject 
of the battle. Several times the esquire had found the 
knight’s gaze fixed upon him with an earnest, eager 
look, but no question had been asked. Finally, how- 
ever, the spell was broken. The prince had been slowly 
pacing to and fro while his esquire removed the tray, 
and when Walter had returned and would have pro- 
ceeded to set the different articles of furniture in their 
proper places, his master addressed him : 

“ Walter, I would speak with thee. Be seated here.” 

The prince had taken a seat upon the edge of his 
couch, and the seat to which he directed his esquire 
was a chair -directly in front of him — the same in which 
Walter had spent the hours of his night-watch. The 
latter gazed up, after he had taken the seat, and was 
unaccountably moved by the look which his lord gave 
him. It was a look such as he had never seen before, 
and he could not imagine what it meant. 


THE PAGE’S CONEESSION. 


345 


u Walter,” spoke the knight, “this is early morn- 
ing ?” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ And how long have I lain upon my bed ?” 

“ Since last evening, Messere.” 

“ It is as I thought. Yesterday, then, I was in the 
list.” 

A brief space of serious reflection, and then : 

“ Good Walter, some things of what transpired yes- 
terday I know full well ; and there be other things of 
which I know nothing. And then, again, there be some 
things of an intermediate character of which I partly 
know, and am partly in doubt. I was fully myself 
when I rode away from my tent with the duke, though 
I was not so strong as I could have wished. By the 
time I had reached the list a sort of faintness came 
creeping over me ; my head was inclined to turn 
against my will ; my vision was not certain, and my 
breath came and went with hard labor. So I hurried 
matters to the utmost, for I felt myself failing. I rode 
one tilt, and carried away one of De Grillon’s vam- 
braces. Did I not ride a second tilt ?” 

“ A second !” cried Walter, in amazement. “ Do you 
not remember that ?” • 

“ I remember that I was in my place at the end of 
the list, and that I raised my visor for air ; and I think 
I made the charge, but I cannot call it clearly to my 
mind.” 

“ Indeed, my lord, that second tilt was right nobly 
run. You carried away De Grillon’s helm; and hurled 
him bodily to the earth.” 

“ Say ye so ?” cried the knight, starting up and seiz- 
ing his esquire by the hand. “ Did I unhorse him ?” 

“ Aye. He went to the earth like a stricken boar ; 
and thou didst keep thy seat right steadily.” 


346 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. * 


“ And did that end the conflict ?” 

“ No, my lord. It proved that De Grillon was not 
much hurt, and you dismounted and took your ax, 
while I led your horse away.” 

“ Aye,” whispered Hugh, quivering from head to 
foot, and sinking back upon the couch. “ I took my 
ax — and De Grillon took the ax ?” 

“Yes, my lord.” 

“ And what then, Walter — what then ?” 

“ Why, then it happened thus : No sooner had De 
Grillon approached, than you, unable to raise your ax, 
began to stagger ; but presently you made a violent 
effort, and with a furious leap you dealt your opponent 
a blow that fairly staggered him. And that was your 
last. After that your ax dropped, and you tottered 
backward ; and as you were falling De Grillon dealt a 
blow which would surely have been fatal, had not a 
sudden tripping of your heel thrown your head back- 
ward from the sweep of his blade. As it was, he only 
cleft the bars of your visor and touched your gorget.” 

“ And I fell — fell before Guiscard de Grillon ?” 

“You fell beneath the hand of God, my master.” 

“ Aye,” responded the prince, in a hollow tone. 
“And to»the judgment of God I had appealed.” 

“ But you had not impiously challenged your Maker 
to combat ; so that fall could not be accounted against 
you.” 

“ And yet I fell beneath De Grillon’s stroke ! Who 
will believe that I was sick nigh unto death before I 
rode a tilt ? Who will believe that I was not fairly 
overcome ?” 

“ Your friends all believe so, my lord ; and the deci- 
sion of the judge has been postponed.” 

“Alas! That Hugh de Vermandois should have 
lived to see this day ! What will the King of France 


THE PAGE’S CONFESSION. 


347 


say when told that his beloved brother — his brother 
who came hither to uphold the honor of his royal arms 
— hath been overcome by a captain of Thoulouse ? 
“Oh, this is dreadful ! Dreadful ! Leave me, Walter.” 

“ But, my lord, you do not fully understand — ” 

“ Hush, good Walter ! I thank thee for thy kind- 
ness ; but the stern truth will not be set aside. Leave 
me awhile. I would think.” 

With a heavy heart, the faithful esquire withdrew 
from the pavilion ; and as he passed out into the court 
he found a number of the knights attached to the 
prince’s immediate household, to whom he communi- 
cated what had thus far transpired. A few of them 
were anxious to see their lord, for the purpose of as- 
suring him, upon their knightly honor, that his case 
yet stood as fair as though he had not yet entered the 
list ; but Walter told them they had better wait, and 
after awhile they withdrew. 

When these nobles had gone, Walter bethought him- 
self that he had better go and see the Duke of Nor- 
mandy ; for he, more than any other, would be likely 
to cheer his master and open the truth to his under- 
standing. Before taking this step, however, he 
thought he would see the prince and let him know 
that he was going out, but without exposing his real 
business. When he entered the inner pavilion, he ut- 
tered an exclamation of wonder at the scene that met 
his gaze. 

There stood the prince, clad in mail from head to 
heel, his velvet surcoat thrown on over his hauberk, 
his sword upon his hip, and his silver casque in his 
hand. 

“ In mercy’s name, my lord, what means this ?” 

The prince gazed upon his devoted attendant with a 
faint, sad smile ; and gently shaking his head, he said : 


348 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


“Walter, you need not say that I have gone out. I 
must have fresh air, and plenty of it. I must get 
away from the camp, that I may reflect by myself. It 
will be better for me.” 

“ But thou wilt permit me to accompany thee my 
lord.” 

“ Nay, Walter. I tell thee I must be alone. In 
Heaven’s name, cross me not. I am not in a mood for 
much speech. Keep watch upon the pavilion, and wait 
for me here. Seek me not beyond the camp.” 

Thus speaking the prince donned his silver casque, 
and strode out from the tent. His esquire dared say 
no more, nor dared he to follow ; and yet his heart 
was torn by doubt and anxiety, for he much feared 
that his lord was in a mood to do serious mischief unto 
himself. He went out and saw the knight mount his 
horse — saw him ride away over the plain — saw him 
turn toward the wood, and finally disappear beyond 
the dark line of forest. After this he returned to the 
pavilion, and was considering whether he should call 
upon the Norman Duke for counsel, when the arras 
was lifted, and a stranger entered — a youth, habited in 
the garb of a peasant, and bearing upon his face the 
Arab stamp. 

“ Who art thou ?” demanded Walter, in no very 
pleasant manner. 

The intruder held forth his hand, and Walter ob- 
served the signet of the prince ; and on the instant his 
face grew bright, for here was one whom he might 
safely set upon his master’s track. 

“ Dost thou seek Hugh de Vermandois ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And must you see him ?” 

“ It is necessary that I should speak with him at 
once.” 


THE PAGE’S CONFESSION. 


349 


“ I think thou art called Hassan?” 

“ So I am called.” 

“ Then, good Hassan, I would have thee seek my 
master with all possible despatch.” And thereupon 
Walter told to the Ismaelian the circumstances under 
which the prince had left the tent, and also pointed 
out the way he had taken. “ I think the prince is too 
sensible a man to do injury to himself ; but I fear it 
is not himself that hath thus gone forth. He was in 
a strange mood, and I know that his heart was heavy 
and sad.” 

The dusky youth put forth his hand, and when 
Walter had taken it, he said : 

“ As I thus freely offer to thee my hand, know that 
just as freely do I offer my life to the Lord of Ver- 
mandois. He is too good a man for this place, where 
I see that even now, ere a single city hath been yet 
taken, a bitter jealousy is growing up among those 
who should set the example of modesty and honor. 
But enough. I mean no disrespect. I will away at 
once and find the prince. I have good news for him.” 

“ Good news ! Then, in Heaven’s name, find him, 
and give him the benefit thereof. If thou canst cheer 
him, thou wilt bless him.” 

Without further words Hassan hurried away, and 
when he had gone, Walter made preparation to visit 
the quarter of the Duke of Normandy ; but before 
.setting forth he made inquiry for Roland, the page. 
Where was he ? He asked several of the servants 
and men-at-arms without success ; but at length he 
met a page attending upon one of the prince’s knights, 
who gave him reliable information. The story of this 
lad was to the effect that he and Roland were playing 
with their blunt spears in the court, when a servant 
of the old physician, Alberic, came and led Roland 


350 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


away. He said that Roland went very reluctantly, 
and seemed considerably frightened when told that 
Alberic had sent for him. 

Thus informed, Walter set forth for the Norman 
quarter, whither we will go on in advance, and learn 
what he was to discover. 

Alberic of Montrillon was one of the most thoroughly 
versed alchemists of his time, and among the branches 
of that science which had particularly engaged his 
attention toxicology was one of the foremost. He had 
often claimed that there was not a poison in the world 
with which he was not acquainted ; and he had also 
declared that no poison could be introduced into food 
or drink in such a manner that he could not detect it. 

And now the old physician had an opportunity to try 
his skill. With the first beams of the morning he was 
up at his work. The wine which he had brought with 
him from the tent of Hugh de Vermandois was poured 
out into a small glazed crucible and subjected to a 
gradual heat. Several slips of soft paper, impregnated 
with different solutions, had been prepared and were 
ready at hand for use. With the first vapor that arose 
from the seething liquor came proof of one important 
secret. No sooner had Alberic allowed the vapor to 
come in contact with his nostrils than he discovered the 
odor of the inspissated juice of the poppy. But he 
knew that this could not be all. That simple narcotic 
poison could not have produced all the effects he had 
witnessed in the case of the prince. But he was not 
long in doubt. Three slips of his prepared paper had 
been subjected to the influence of the vapor without 
effect ; the fourth slip, however, began to change color 
immediately ; and in a little while the old man threw 
down the paper and cried : 


THE PAGE’S CONFESSION. 


351 


“ Eureka /” 

“ What is it ?” asked the companion who had been 
assisting him. 

“ It is the double-distilled essence of hemlock. Now, 
you see, we can account for every symptom.” 

“ Aye,” exclaimed the other physician. “ And it was 
a witty compound.” 

“ And a common one when the poisoner desires that 
the victim shall possess some little show of vitality 
while the agent is performing its deadly work. And 
now let us seek Robert of Normandy.” 

Alberic and his companion found the Norman duke 
far from being a well man. He had sent for his own 
leech during the night, and a powerful emetic had 
given him relief. Hugh’s physician wasted no words, 
but in as brief a manner as possible told his story — told 
of his conversation with De St. Valery — of his taking 
away the wine remaining in the flask, and of the recent 
experiment. 

“ Death of my life !” cried the stout duke, starting . 
to his feet and smiting his fist upon his bosom. “ The 
villains meant to poison our noble Hugh !” 

“ I do not think they meant to take his life,” said 
Alberic, “ but only so paralyze his body that he might 
be overcome in the list.” 

“Which is a thousand times more foul and dastardly!” 
returned Robert, quivering from head to foot. “And 
how can we bring this wickedness home upon them ?” 

“ Let us rest here awhile and summon the page of 
whom Walter told me. If you will lend me two of your 
men, I will send for him.” 

The men were summoned, and Alberic directed 
them to proceed at once to the quarter of the Verman- 
dois and bring back the page Roland. 

The messengers departed, and were not long in per- 


352 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


forming their mission. The boy was pale and anxious, 
and his knees shook so that he could scarcely stand. 
The duke claimed the privilege of examining him, and 
he resolved to proceed upon the assumption that the 
lad had done the deed. 

“ Look ye, boy. ' Can you tell me what prevents me 
from taking my stout, sharp dagger thus and cutting 
your head from your shoulders ?” 

The duke drew his dagger as he spoke, and the boy 
shrank back, uttering a cry of terror. 

“ Tell me ! Why should I not cut out your false 
young heart ?” 

Another cry of terror, and the boy fairly staggered 
from weakness. 

“ Oh, thou wicked wretch ! And he so kind a master ! 
How had the noble prince ever injured thee that thou 
shouldst do so foul a deed ! I think I must cut that 
young head of thine off ere thou dost further mischief. 
It is our only safety, else we shall have the whole camp 
poisoned.” 

“ Perhaps,” suggested the old physician, as the boy 
clasped his hands and tried to articulate, “ this lad did 
not do it of his own accord. If he was instigated by 
others I think he should be spared.” 

“ If he can show to us that he was not the author of 
the plot, I may spare him, but if he cannot, then his 
head must come off. And it shall not fall with the 
blow of an ax, but I will cut it off with a knife as I 
would cut off the head of a wolf.” 

There was something in the look and manner of the 
dark-browed Northman, as he thus horribly spoke, 
that filled the boy with a terror almost deadly, and 
when the duke advanced toward him with the gleam- 
ing dagger naked in his hand, he sank down upon his 
knees and his speech found utterance : 


The page’s confession. 


353 


u Oh, spare me ! Spare me ! I did not know what it 
would do. They told me it would not kill him ; that 
it would not do him serious harm, but that it would 
only make him so confident and so furious that he 
would run himself into danger, and then they could 
overcome him in battle.” 

“ And did they tell you to put it into his wine?” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ Which one gave you the poison ?” 

" Oh, my lord, he said it was not poison !” 

“ Never mind that now. Did Guiscard de Grillon 
give it to you ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ And why did you obey him ?” 

The boy hesitated and looked anxiously around. 

The duke, having thus broken the ice and reflecting 
that further truth might be more readily obtained by 
gentle means, changed his tone : 

“ Roland, when I regard thy youth and think what a 
shame it would be to have thy young life made forever 
black and horrible from sin and iniquity, I am tempted 
to spare thee upon the condition that thou tellest me 
the whole truth, and I pledge thee in advance that I 
will shield thee from all danger arising therefrom.” 

In this way the lad was induced to make a full con- 
fession, and when he found that the duke had knowl- 
edge of his former treason to his master, he told the 
whole story, from the time of his entering the service 
of the prince, after the wreck at Epirus, to the present. 
Guiscard de Grillon was his uncle, and all the time that 
he had eaten the bread of De Vermandois he had been 
secretly in the service of De Grillon. Touching this 
last deed, his confession was to the following effect : 

Immediately after the breaking up of the council, at 
which arrangements for the battle had been made, De 


354 GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 

Grillon called Roland aside and gave into his hands 
a small phial, containing a liquid that he was to mix 
with wine which the prince would drink that afternoon. 
He must mix it with wine, if possible ; if not, he must 
put it into something else. But as the lad had free 
access at all hours to the prince’s private apartment, 
there would be no trouble. De Grillon solemnly swore 
that the thing would not produce death, and he prom- 
ised, in case of success, that he would procure Roland’s 
advancement to the office of esquire at least a full year 
sooner than might otherwise be. 

When the page had concluded his confession, the 
duke explained to him that he should be forced to 
hold him in close confinement until they had made 
further investigation. 

“ Not that you are imprisoned for crime,” said 
Robert, “ but that you may be no more tampered with 
by bad men.” 

“ I care not now where you put me, my lord,” replied 
the boy, “ so that you keep me from my uncle.” 

“ That is the very end we aim at, Roland ; so make 
your mind easy. And in the meantime thou hadst 
better pray to God that He may pardon this crime of 
thy youth, ere thy heart becometh hard and corrupt.” 

For some time after the page had been led away, 
the Duke of Normandy sat with his head bowed upon 
both his hands. 

“ My soul,” he cried at length, starting up and lift- 
ing his right-hand toward Heaven, “how shall the true 
soldiers of the Cross ever reap success against the 
Infidels, while in their very midst, and bearing upon 
their breasts the sacred symbol of Christ, such black- 
hearted traitors are suffered to wear the holy emblems 
of knighthood ?” 


CHAPTER XII. 


A CONFERENCE — THE SEARCH. 

The first movement of Robert of Normandy, after 
he had seen the traitorous page placed under proper 
restraint, was to seek the Italian quarter, where he 
found Tancred and Bohemond together. Calling them 
to attend him upon a matter of great importance, he 
conducted them to the pavilion of Godfrey de Bouillon, 
where old Alberic had preceded them. The stout 
chieftain of Bouillon was chafing with impatience, the 
physician having informed him that he was about to 
be' visited by several of the princes on a matter of 
great moment, and having yet withheld from him the 
nature of their business. So when he saw these 
valiant warriors before him, he was ready at once to 
attend to them, and bade them relieve his burdened 
mind as quickly as possible. 

“ Easy, my noble brother,” said Tancred, toward 
whom Bouillon had cast an impatient glance. “ I am 
as ignorant of this matter as yourself. Our gentle 
knight of Normandy will enlighten us.” 


f355] 


356 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


Whereupon Robert turned to the old physician, say- 
ing : 

“Alberic, thou hast the gift of speech, and more- 
over thou knowest of this matter more particularly 
than do I or any other.” 

And then Alberic told his story. He told how he 
had found Prince Hugh after the battle ; how he had 
suspected poison ; how he had brought away the flask ; 
and of the test to which he had subjected the wine 
that was in it. While he was speaking, Duke Robert’s 
physician came in, and he was forced to tell his story 
over again ; and when he had concluded the Norman 
chief made explanation of his own case, his medical 
attendant assisting him materially. 

The effect upon the Italian knights and upon God- 
frey can be better imagined than described. For a time 
they were so astounded that they could hardly speak. 
It did not seem possible that such things could be ; 
and yet there they were proved beyond their power to 
doubt. 

“As for me,” cried the Duke de Bouillon, “I will no 
more believe that our brother of Vermandois hath 
been guilty of any treason at all !” 

“ He hath not,” answered Robert. “I’ll stake my 
life upon his innocence of all that hath been pro- 
nounced against him.” 

“ Aye,” added Tancred, with fiery zeal, at the same 
time striking hands with the Norman, “and I am with 
thee to the end. Hugh hath never had it in his heart 
to do aught of evil against the Christian cause, and I 
will pledge my life with yours, my brother.” 

Boh6mond spoke more carefully, and shook his head 
admonitorily. 

“ I think the Prince of Vermandois hath been much 
abused and traduced, and I am willing to believe that 


A CONFERENCE THE SEARCH. 


357 


he hath not intended so much of ill as hath been rep- 
resented ; and, moreover, this wickedness which we 
have discovered showeth to us that he hath most bit- 
ter enemies, and we can judge full well that their 
accusations should be taken with much allowance. 
Still, my brothers, there have been grave things proved 
against him, and I pray God that he may show them in 
a proper light, but we must not let our suddenly 
aroused sympathies lead us into error. Because those 
who accused him have shown themselves to be false 
and wicked, we must not necessarily admit that Hugh 
stands wholly vindicated. Let us see Raymond of 
Thoulouse. He should know of this.” 

Godfrey admitted the justice of Bohemond’s speech, 
but not so Robert and Tancred. They could see no 
sense in further suspicion of Hugh’s loyalty to their 
cause ; and the fact that his three accusers had sought 
so abominably to break him down bodily in the list 
was proof enough to them that the same three had 
sought full as wickedly to break down his reputation. 

In answer to this, Bohemond bade them remember 
that only one of the three accusers had had any hand 
in the poison. 

But Tancred and Robert would not admit the sup- 
position. The3^ believed that all three of the rascals 
had been engaged in the diabolical plot. 

The dispute was waxing warm, and threatened to 
lead to harder feelings and harsher speech, when the 
old Count of Thoulouse entered the tent. He had 
heard that several of the chiefs were assembled there, 
and he had a curiosity to know what the business was. 
So, when he had seated himself, Alberic told to him 
the story. Those who had looked to see Raymond 
start with horror at the revelation were sorely disap- 
pointed. On the contrary, he took it rather coolly, 


358 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


and seemed, by his manner, to feel more of chagrin 
that his favorite captain should have allowed himself 
to be exposed, than of sorrow for what said captain 
had done. 

“Why man !” cried Robert, starting to his feet and 
facing the count, “ dost thou not hold this to be a most 
diabolical piece of work, and one which should consign 
its instigator to everlasting infamy ?” 

“ Truly, good Robert,” answered Raymond, with 
irritating coolness, “ if De Grillon hath done this thing, 
he hath been guilty of a grave offense ; but you seem 
to forget that the knight hath a tongue, and that he 
may successfully defend himself against the charge. 
At present you have the simple story of a mere boy — 
a boy who hath shown himself to be a traitor — against 
the knightly honor of a bold and valiant soldier.” 

“ Bold and valiant !” retorted the Norman, with in- 
tense disdain. “ ’Sdeath ! I hold him beneath the level 
of contempt !” 

Godfrey began to tremble, lest there should be 
trouble in his pavilion ; but Raymond of Thoulouse, 
usually so stern and defying, took no offense at Rob- 
ert’s hot speech ; but replied with much seeming frank- 
ness : 

“ We will not try Guiscard de Grillon’s case here. 
Let it be of him when he is present to defend himself. 
Only allow me to say this : If it shall be proven that 
he hath done this thing with evil intent, 1 will not seek 
to shield him. And now let me advise you : Allow 
not the doings of another to lead you into excusing 
Hugh de Vermandois ; for I am fully persuaded that 
he is a traitor.” 

What might have been the final result of the dis- 
cussion we cannot determine. Tancred and Robert, 
their eyes flashing, and their frames quivering with 


A CONFERENCE — THE SEARCH. 359 

excitement, had both started forward to make answer 
to the old count, when Walter de St. Valery entered 
the pavilion. 

“ My noble lords,” spoke the gentle esquire, in a hur- 
ried, fearful manner, “ the prince, my beloved master, 
hath left the camp, and I know not whither he hath 
gone ; but I fear he may come to harm if he be not 
pursued and overtaken.” 

“ Gone !” cried Alberic, in alarm. “ My soul ! He was 
not fit to go.” 

“So I told him,” said the esquire ; “but he would 
not listen to me.” 

“ Why did you not bear him company ?” demanded 
the physician, trembling more and more. “You 
should have known that he was not fit to venture forth 
alone.” 

“ Be generous with Walter, good Alberic,” inter- 
posed Robert, who observed the esquire’s trouble of 
manner. “ Thou knowest well that Hugh of Verman- 
dois is not a man to be openly opposed by a dependent.” 

“ But,” cried the doctor, beside himself with the 
anxiety which had been every moment increasing with 
reflection, “ the prince was not in his right mind. Oh, 
my lords, I beseech you, mount and pursue him with 
all possible speed !” 

“ Did he depart on his horse !” asked Raymond. 

Walter answered that he did. 

The old count shook his head, at the same time mut- 
tering, half to himself : 

“ Verily, the doings of the prince are marvelously 
strange of late. I see not why this alarm. He hath 
been to the mountain before ; and we know why he 
went ; or, at least, we have good ground for judgment. 
And now, if we follow him, who shall say that we pur- 
sue him not into the jaws of the lion ?” 


3T>0 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


“ Raymond ! The jaws of the lion ?” 

“ Aye,” replied the count to Tancred, who had thus 
interrupted him. “ 1 believe Kilidge Arslan is called 
a lion.” 

“ The Sultan of Roum !” uttered Robert of Nor- 
mandy, aghast. 

“ Our mortal enemy !” added Tancred. 

“ So I have said,” calmly answered Raymond. 

“ But my master went not in the direction of the 
Turkish fastnesses,” pleaded Walter, in pain. 

“ Who shall tell where, in these mountains, the Turks 
have not a guard ?” retorted he of Thoulouse. 

“ Out upon thee for a false knight, if thou dost thus 
fling cruel suspicion upon a brother without just 
cause !” exclaimed the Prince of Otranto. 

“ And I say the same !” chimed the Duke of Nor- 
mandy. “ And nowdet us away in pursuit of our noble 
Hugh. Oh, God grant that no evil hath befallen him !” 

“Upon my life,” said Tancred, as he and the Duke 
of Normandy walked away together, “ I cannot under- 
stand why Raymond of Thoulouse should be Hugh’s 
enemy ! His manner is passing strange.” 

“ A thing came to my ears yesterday, after the bat- 
tle,” replied Robert, “ which gave me light. It hath 
been impressed upon Raymond’s mind that Hugh was 
not altogether blameless in the matter of the loss of 
his daughter. He hath information that the prince 
and Gertrude had quarreled, and that at the time of 
the wreck they were at open enmity, and he fears that 
Hugh did not afford her that protection which he 
might have given her had he pleased.” 

“ ’Sdeath ! And do you credit that, Robert ?” 

“ No ! By my good right arm, no ! The old count 
hath been imposed upon ; and it shall be ours, if 
possible, to bring to light the whole wicked plot. Upon 


A CONFERENCE THE SEARCH. 


361 


my life it puzzles me. Oh, if some kind power would 
but send the Lady Gertrude to our assistance, how 
quickly all the dark places would be illumined !” 

“Ah,” responded Tancred, solemnly, “I fear me 
that may never be ! I saw the lady at Rome ; and the 
man who says that Hugh de V ermandois could, know- 
ingly or willingly, allow harm to come to such, while 
it was in his power to prevent it, lies, and the truth is 
not in him !” 

And Robert and Tancred were not the only ones 
who wondered exceedingly at the conduct of Ray- 
mond of Thoulouse. It had been known that once 
Raymond loved the gallant prince right warmly, and 
that he had been very proud and happy when the 
prince had won his daughter’s love and the promise 
of her hand. 

But let us go back for one moment to Godfrey’s tent, 
where the duke and Raymond had been left alone 
together, and we are just in time to hear from the 
man’s own lips the source of all the trouble. Godfrey 
has just asked the very question which had exercised 
the mind of Tancred, and the old count makes answer : 

“ My noble Godfrey, since so much hath been said 
here in your presence, I am forced to tell you that 
which I had almost resolved should never escape my 
lips until the time should come when I could tell it to 
the prince himself. You are of course aware that my 
daughter was Hugh’s affianced bride ?” 

“ Yes, Raymond. So it hath been told me.” 

“ And it hath been told thee truly. They were 
affianced, and it had been arranged that they should 
be married in Jerusalem. Believing that Hugh loved 
the maiden truly, and knowing that his opportunity 
of conducting her readily to Constantinople was better 
than mine, I intrusted her to his care. But, good 


362 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


Godfrey, I have reason to believe that the prince had 
tired of poor Gertrude. He liked not the thought of 
wedding her. Should his brother Philip die without 
issue he will be king, and he had grown to dislike the 
thought of raising a woman who had worn the armor, 
and bestrode a horse, to the throne of France. Feel- 
ing thus, he resolved that he would rid himself of her 
if he ever had the opportunity ; and at Epirus the 
opportunity came. He placed her in an out-of-the-way 
hut during the night — left her entirely alone — and then 
set a Tyrian freebooter to fall upon her and carry her 
away. Now do you wonder that I like him not ?” 

“ I wonder much, however, that you can give full 
credit to that story,” said the duke. 

Raymond looked up in surprise, but ere he could 
make reply other knights entered the pavilion, and the 
subject was dropped. 

It was near the middle of the forenoon that ten 
knights, fully armed and equipped, set forth from the 
Christian camp in search of Hugh de Vermandois, 
Walter de St. Valery bearing them company. The 
esquire led the way to the opening in the wood which 
he had seen his master enter, and at a short distance 
they came to a small stream, upon the sandy shore of 
which they -found the prints of a horse’s feet. Walter 
dismounted and examined them and declared them to 
be the prints of Dominic’s feet. He knew the hind 
shoes. The armorer had made them of a peculiar pat- 
tern only a few weeks before and he was confident 
there were no others like them. 

“ It is safe enough to follow the direction they indi- 
cate,” said Tancred, who had taken charge of the ex- 
pedition. “ I doubt if any other Christian’s horse hath 
been this way to-day.” 

Of the two passes here opening they took the one 


A CONFERENCE — THE SEARCH. 


363 


thus indicated and for half an hour they rode on, not 
very swiftly, for they were careful to examine the 
woods upon either hand as they went, and at the end 
of that time they came to a point where the path 
branched again, one branch seeming to lead away 
through the forest to the left, on level ground, while 
the other appeared to lead directly on up the moun- 
tain. Here Walter dismounted again and very quickly 
discovered the prints of Dominic’s feet in the latter 

path. 

“ Once more on,” cried the valiant Tancred, darting 
on ahead up the steep ascent. “ I don’t think we ’ll 
find many more by-ways.” 

“ I care not what we find, so that we find our noble 
Hugh !” suggested Robert of Normandy. 

“ So that we find him safe,” added he of Otranto. 

“ ’Sdeath, man, don’t turn your speech into such 
dubious ways ! You freeze me !” 

Tancred could make no reply to this, for he had 
reached a narrow rocky defile, where he was forced to 
guide his horse with great care. Up through this dark 

pass, and they came to a broader path where nature 
had terraced the solid rock before them, so that they 
ascended without trouble. Up this, and they came 
upon a broad table of rock, which the horses had no 
sooner reached than they began to snuff and to neigh, 
as though they scented danger. It was truly a wild 
and romantic scene. Before them lay the broad level 
of rock, beyond which the mountain still arose, lifting 
its dark and gloomy summit, rough and rugged, against 
the sky at a far, far distance. To the left the table 
seemed to drop off into a chasm, the tops of the dingy 
firs and cedars forming a scraggy line just above the 
ledge ; while to the right, reaching away to a dizzy 
height, arose a perpendicular cliff of solid rock. It was 


304 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


as though this had been a court of some Cyclopean 
castle, and the cliff had been a vast wall, raised by 
square and plumnvet to defend that side. 

“ My lords,” said Walter de St. Valery, when they 
had viewed the whole scene, “ I should judge that this 
was the place where the prince met — ” 

A sudden cry from Robert of Normandy, who occu- 
pied a position at the extreme right, stopped his 
speech. 

“ See — see !” broke from the Norman chieftain’s lips 
in wild, spasmodic accent. “ What is that ?” 

Tancred and Walter advanced a few paces and stood 
appalled. 

“ Oh, my soul ! What is this my eyes behold ?” 




CHAPTER XIII. 

HIC JACET ! THE BLACK KNIGHT. 

What was it that lay upon the hard rock, close in 
under the face of the cliff — that lay there in the dusky 
shadow, thrown into a strange and grotesque shape — 
that lay where patches of the somber shadow were made 
still more somber by mottled, ghastly dabs and pools ? 
What was it, so still and so quiet, in that silent place, 
and upon that hard bed ? Oh, so like a thing that, 
only a few short hours before, had borne a noble front, 
and had breathed the fresh air of heaven with every 
promise of buoyant, vigorous life ! So like the gallant 
chief whom the thousands that loved him had followed 
to battle as they would have followed him to the sports 
of a holiday ! 

Oh, no, no, no ! There could be no hope. So still ! 
So strangely conditioned ! And those dabs and pools ? 
The rich velvet of the surcoat torn and soiled ; the fine 
mail of the hauberk rent and bedaubed, the bright 
network of rings here and there dimmed by the ghastly 
flow that had reached the rock ; the silver helm — . 

How those stern warriors, used to scenes of blood 
from their very childhood, started back appalled when 
they saw that silver helm, and read the story that came 
from the voiceless lips that lay pale and cold within 
the bruised and shattered bars ! 

[365 J 


366 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


Hark ! The neighing of a horse. And presently, 
from the path at the opposite side of the table, came a 
richly caparisoned steed, with long, swift strides, stop- 
ping first over the prostrate form, bending his head 
and snuffing, as though for the breath of the lips that 
were never to speak to him more. 

“ Poor Dominic !” 

The horse raised his head and recognized Walter, 
and in a moment more the faithful beast had moved 
slowly up and pressed his muzzle upon the esquire’s 
shoulder. 

By and by Walter and Tancred turned the body of 
the knight upon its back, and unloosed the helm and 
drew it off. Until this moment there had been a hope 
that death might not have claimed the prince for his 
own ; but their hope vanished when the casque had 
been removed. The skull was broken almost to a 
pomace, and so terrific had been the blow, that even 
the bone of the forehead was crushed to the very eyes. 

Everything was there save the prince’s sword. 
Where was that ? Had Dominic become restive and 
thrown his master ? Had he become frightened in the 
wood and had Hugh’s sword been torn off by coming 
in contact with the stout shrubbery ? For a long time 
not a word of sense was spoken ; but at length Tan- 
cred asked : “ How did it happen ?” And from that 

moment there were questions and answers enough. 

After a little consideration, Tancred and Robert of 
Normandy, leaving Walter to watch the body, went 
around to where the upper sweep of the cliff lost itself 
in the wood, and here they found a path leading up- 
ward. It was very steep, but the jagged projections 
were so plenty and so near together that they afforded 
a very convenient staircase, and the adventurers made 
their way to the top without difficulty, ever and anon, 


HIC JACET ! THE BLACK KNIGHT. 


3G7 


on the passage, discovering marks of a recent ascent. 
In one place Tancred found a twig freshly broken and 
a bunch of green leaves not yet begun to wilt, which 
had been stripped off as though the bough had slipped 
through the hand that clutched it, leaving its foliage 
behind. Robert was the first to reach the summit, and 
an exclamation of astonishment broke from his lips as 
his eyes rested upon Prince Hugh’s sword. He and 
Tancred both knew it, as did every knight who had 
been intimate with him ; for it was a weapon which 
had come down from the first Capet, and which was 
said to have first graced the hip of Charlemagne. 

“ My soul ! Look !” 

So spoke Tancred, as he turned back, with swim- 
ming brain, after having looked down from the brow 
of the precipice. 

Robert looked over, and grew suddenly sick at heart 
as his eyes caught the scene far, far below him, and the 
thought of pitching over and falling that frightful dis- 
tance presented itself. 

For a little time the two chiefs stood there upon 
that elevated perch, and looked each into the other’s 
face. 

He of Otranto was the first to speak, though not the 
first to offer an opinion : 

“ Robert, what think you of this ?” 

And the Duke of Normandy, speaking slowly and 
solemnly, gave utterance to an opinion which was 
afterward entertained by most of those who had been 
friends to the unfortunate man : 

“ Upon a system already heavily stricken, the cup of 
the poisoner made sad effect. First to fall upon our 
prince was the blow which he received on the head, 
probably in this very place. If Walter is correct, the 
Turk who launched the stone that struck Hugh to the 


368 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


earth stood where we now stand. That blow, followed 
by a week’s prostration, left him hardly in a condition 
to receive calmly the frightful charges which were 
brought against him. These charges, together with 
the wickedness that instigated them, and the fact of 
brave men’s believing them possibly true, were not 
calculated to cheer his already drooping spirits. Then 
came the poison and the battle. When he awoke this 
morning he was not himself. His reason had become 
shattered, and he dwelt upon his situation with shame 
and horror. 'When he knew that he had sunk down before 
Guiscard de Grillon in the list, and that the judgment 
of God which he had evoked had gone against him, he 
felt that he was ruined and disgraced ; and he left his 
tent resolved that he would not live. Life to him had 
no more charms, for he looked through falsehood and 
deceit. Oh, when he stood here, on this dizzy pinnacle, 
when he took off his trenchant blade and laid it rever- 
ently aside, never to be worn again, and wielded by the 
arm than which a better never grasped a hilt, then, 
then, could he but have known what we know now, 
how different it might have been ! If he could have 
known that his page had confessed the wickedness of 
his chief accuser ! But alas, he knew it not. He only 
knew that he had failed, and his noble nature rebelled 
at the thought of begging explanation ; for of all the 
things an honorable knight can be called upon to do, 
the most dread-inspiring and soul-harrowing is to ex- 
plain a defeat in a passage at arms which he himself 
hath invited. Hugh must have had his plan perfected 
in his mind when he set forth, and he probably came 
directly to this place, left his horse to wander at his 
will, and then, having ascended this height, prepared 
for the death he courted. Methinks I can hear his 
simple prayer — I can see him take off that precious 


HIC JACET ! THE BLACK KNIGHT. 


3G9 


sword, fully assured that his friends would find it — I 
see him lay it down and — and — oh, if I could think he 
said in his heart, 4 Robert of Normandy, thou wert my 
friend — God bless thee !’ — if I could think that he said 
so — ” 

“ And if he did,” cried the Prince of Otranto — 44 if 
he thought of his friends, be sure he forgot not 
Tancred !” 

44 Aye,” replied the Norman, warmly, “none could 
have had a deeper place in his heart than thyself, 
brave Tancred — no, not one ! We will think that he 
remembered us, and then — then — came the end. And 
God knows the Christian army hath this day lost the 
best knight of all that bore its standard. It is not a 
strain upon truth to say that Hugh of Vermandois was 
the best knight in Christendom.” 

44 1 agree with thee, Robert. Thou speakest truly. 
And neither of us will ever again touch the hand of a 
truer friend !” 

Thus they spoke, and then turned and made their 
way down the rugged declivity, and were soon with 
their friends below. 

Walter, assisted by two of the knights, unable to 
bear the sight of the terribly mangled head, had re- 
shaped the bruised and battered casque, and, with 
tremulous hands and many sighs, lifting the gory front 
as though it might still feel pain from an unkind touch, 
the silver helm had been drawn on to its proper place, 
and the visor shut close and hooked down. Tancred 
and Robert fixed the corse upon Dominic’s back, and 
having laid the old sword of Charlemagne reverently 
across the saddle-bow, they started b&ck down the 
mountain. 

The mourning party, with Tancred riding at the 
head, had reached the foot of the mountain, and the 


370 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


question arose whether they should take the shorter 
way directly toward the camp or move toward the 
plain. In the former case they would gain almost a 
league, but would have a full league more of forest to 
penetrate ; while in the latter, they would, while 
travelling further, enjoy a clear and open way. 

“Strike for the plain,” said Tancred. “We had 
better travel a score of leagues beyond the shorter 
way, than drag this sacred charge through the hard 
forest.” 

So they took the path that led them for a while away 
from the camp, but which brought them very quickly 
to the open country, and at a short distance from the 
wood they struck the highway over which travellers 
came from Constantinople. They were just entering 
the broad well-beaten track, when an object met their 
gaze that caused them to stop, as though a peremptory 
order had been given to that effect. 

Coming up the road was a knight clad in complete 
armor, and mounted upon a powerful horse ; and it 
was observed that he closed his visor when they 
appeared in the road before him. A nobler presence 
Tancred swore he had never seen. And well might 
he say so. In stature, the stranger was of that fair, 
medium proportion most favorable to compactness 
atid vigor of body, while his erect and easy bearing 
bespoke grace and self-reliance. But the chief pecu- 
liarity — that which struck our friends as something 
solemnly prophetic — was the funeral hue of the 
strange presence. The knight’s armor, from top to toe, 
was utterly black ; the closely fitting and admirably 
adapted plates seeming to be enameled in jet ; and three 
towering ostrich plumes as black as the plumage of 
the raven surmounted the sable helmet and crest. 
The horse was evidently an Andalusian, large and 


HIC JACET ! — THE BLACK KNIGHT. 


371 


powerful, and of a form so symmetrical that the most 
practiced eye could find no fault ; and its color was 
black — not a spot, not a hair, to break the solemn hue. 
The knight’s lance was black ; his scabbard black ; 
and all the trappings, of both man and beast, even to 
the bars of the bits, were the same. In short, a statue 
cut from a massive block of pure jet, could not have 
been more evenly and entirely black. 

Tancred and his party reached the highway just as 
the stranger came up, and the former looked to see if 
there were any device upon any part of the black 
armor, but no device was to be seen. The stranger 
was the first to speak : 

“ In the name of God and St. Denis, I give thee 
Christian greeting, brothers all !” 

“ In the name of God and his Holy Son, whom we serve, 
we welcome thee to our companionship,” said Tancred. 

“ Meeting thee here,” pursued the stranger, “ gives 
me the hope that I am not far from the Christian camp. 
I have had a toilsome ride, brothers, and more than 
once have I disputed the way with intruding infidels.” 

“And thou hast come to join the crusaders, sir 
stranger ?” 

“Yes, and other lances will be with me in time. I 
rode on in advance, anxious to meet my noble friend, 
the Prince of Vermandois. Can you lead me to his 
tent ? Ha ! Why start ye in such blank amaze ?” 

“ Wouldst thou know the prince?” asked Robert of 
Normandy. 

At that moment, even as the Norman spoke, the 
gaze of the black knight had rested upon the horse 
that bore the melancholy burden, and as he saw the 
limp and lifeless form, the mail broken and dabbed in 
gore — as he saw that princely surcoat, with its royal 
emblazonry torn and disfigured — and as he saw the 


372 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


dark horrible gouts that hung quivering from the bars 
of the silver helm, he seemed at once to comprehend 
the fearful truth. 

“ My life upon it,” he cried, raising his mailed hand 
toward the ghastly scene, “ that is Hugh’s full garb as 
he wore it on the field in Paris. Tell me — hath ill be- 
fallen him ? Where is Walter de St. Valery ?” 

“ Here I am,” answered the esquire, advancing, and 
at the same time gazing eagerly up at the bars of the 
black visor, to catch, if possible, a glimpse of the fea- 
tures beneath. 

“ Speak, Walter ! In God’s name, speak ; and tell 
me what hath befallen thy noble master !” 

And then, partly from Walter and partly from Tan- 
cred and Robert, the stranger gained the whole story. 
It was told in oddly disconnected sentences, and with 
many sighs and moans ; but in the end the newcomer 
had heard all that was necessary to make him under- 
stand that the Prince of Vermandois had been most 
wickedly traduced and betrayed ; and that in a tem- 
porary fit of insanity, induced partly by his sufferings 
and partly by poison, he had thrown away a life which 
he feared had been darkened forever. 

The Black Knight listened to the end, and then, let- 
ting go his rein, he raised his clasped hands on high, 
and solemnly spoke as follows : 

“ Before Thee, thou God of my fathers, I give my- 
self to the avenging and the justification of Hugh of 
Vermandois ; which work, I swear by the holy cross, 
I will do ! And until my oath is fulfilled, the light of 
day shall not shine upon my face !* Hear me God, 
and record my vow !” 

* It was very common in those days for a knight who had taken it 
upon himself to redress some grievous wrong, to swear that he would not 
raise his visor to the light until the work had heen accomplished. 


HIC JACET ! — THE SLACK. KNIGHT. 


373 


Then lowering- his hands, he turned to the company 
before him : 

“ Brethren in arms,” he continued, in a tone of pecu- 
liar earnestness, “ I have a favor to crave at your 
hands. If I have dropped a word, or given a sign, 
that may lead you to suspect me, keep your thoughts 
to yourselves until I may choose to expose my face to 
the world. I have a reason for asking this ; and I 
know that you will give me frank acquittal when you 
know all.” 

“ By my life,” cried Tancred, looking hard into the 
dim interstices of the black visor, “ thou hast given me 
no such sign.” 

“ Nor me,” added Robert of Normandy. 

And they all were equally ready to swear ignorance 
save Walter de St. Valery. He alone seemed to have 
hit a suspicion that found lodgment in his mind ; and 
when the party had once more started on its way, he 
rode to the stranger’s side. 

“ Sir stranger,” he said, “ to show thee that I put 
full confidence in the avowal thou hast made, and that 
I hold thee as a friend to my master’s memory, I offer 
thee rest in his pavilion.” 

“ Hast thou authority so to do, good Walter ?” 

“ Yes, my — lord.” 

The esquire spoke the last word very, reluctantly, 
and with much hesitation*; whereupon the other 
quickly responded : 

“I have a right to the title, Walter. I accept the 
offer gladly, though God knows it must be an aching 
heart I bear to the couch where Hugh hath rested !” 

It was late in the day when the mournful cavalcade 
drew up before the headquarters of the Department 
of the Vermandois ; and like wildfire spread the 
startling intelligence that Prince Hugh was dead. 


GERTRUt)E 'THE AMAZON. 


m 

Some few, even on that first evening, gained a knowl- 
edge of the truth as it appeared from what had been 
discovered ; but by far the greater portion of the 
Crusaders heard wild and exaggerated stories, as false 
as they were ridiculous and improbable. 

“ The Black Knight !” That name, ere many hours, 
had been upon every lip ; and as it was necessarily 
associated with the death of the French prince, it 
created an excitement second only to that resulting 
from the latter event. Thousands of men tried to get 
a sight at the mysterious stranger before the darkness 
fairly threw its curtain over the scene ; but they were 
disappointed. He had entered the pavilion of the prince 
immediately on his arrival, and had not come forth since. 

Quite late at night — nearly the fourth hour — Tancred 
and Robert of Normandy, arm-in-arm, approached the 
quarter of Vermandois, and were fortunate enough to 
find Walter without calling for him. 

“ Good Walter/’ said Tancred, “ the pledge which 
we gave the Black Knight need not prevent us, who 
were then present, from mentioning our suspicions to 
each other. Have you not an idea of that man’s name ?” 

“ Have you, my lord ?” returned Walter. 

“ I have.” 

“ You may speak to me, and if you strike my thought 
I will give you the sign.” 

“ vSuppose I were to say — Philip ?” 

“ Do you say so ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then, my lord, there is no ground for dispute be- 
tween us.” 

And Tancred and Robert went away fully believing 
that Hugh’s royal brother, the King of France, had 
como to join them. But they resolved that they would 
give no sign to that effect. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE BLACK KNIGHT’S CHALLENGE THE ATTACK. 

With the^iirst beams of the morning the crusaders 
from every quarter began to assemble in the open 
space before the pavilion of Vermandois, and ere long 
the thousand and one wild stories of the previous 
night were corrected, and the facts were told as they 
had been gathered from those who knew. Had Kilidge 
Arslan made a descent and carried away half the 
women and children of the camp, the excitement could 
not have been more intense ; for it was now openly 
acknowledged, by knight and esquire, and by noble 
and prince, that Hugh de Vermandois had been the 
strongest knight of them all and the most accom- 
plished chieftain. Even Tancred, whose lance and 
sword were deemed invincible, acknowledged that 
Hugh was a better man than himself at the head of 
an army. 

“ Because,” said the generous Italian, “ he held a 
better command over himself.” 

The nearest friends of the French prince consulted 
with Walter, and it was finally decided that the body 
should be embalmed as well as they could do it, Alberic 
having declared that he could so preserve it that com- 
mo'n decay would be effectually arrested — that it should 

[ 375 ] 


376 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


be embalmed and secured in an air-tight casket, and 
then Tancred, together with Robert of Normandy and 
Stephen of Blois and Chartres, vowed that they would 
bear it with them to Jerusalem and there give it final 
sepulcher in thrice consecrated ground. 

And now how looked the chiefs of the army upon 
this death ? All were horrified, but many there were 
who shook their heads with the belief that the suicide 
of the prince was an evidence of guilt. Had he been 
innocent he might have known that in time his inno- 
cence would have been proved. This rash step, there- 
fore, gave strong testimony against his oym assurance 
of right. 

Some time during the night Guiscard de Grillon had 
gained access to Roland, the page, and on this morn- 
ing the lad had asked to take back the testimony he had 
given against his uncle. He said now that he had 
given it because he feared his head would be cut off if 
he did not. When asked to explain The circumstance 
of the wine, he said that some weeks before, when he 
was sick, Peter, one of the physicians in Count Ray- 
mond’s quarter, had given him some medicine. He had 
not used the whole of it, and when he saw his master 
sick it occurred to him that the same medicine might 
be good for him, so he mixed it in the wine Sir Hugh 
was to drink. The physician, Peter, was called and he 
bore out the boy’s testimony so far as his part in the 
transaction was concerned, and when asked the nature 
of the medicine be said it had been a vegetable prep- 
aration which was entirely innocent in its fresh state, 
but which became very nauseous and almost poisonous 
when kept long enough to ferment. This latter fact 
he had not mentioned to Roland, because he v had no 
thought of the medicine’s being kept so long. 

This story, so ridiculous and so improbable, had its 


THE BLACK KNIGHT^ CHALLENGE THE ATTACK. 377 

effect, the result of which was that Hugh’s chief tra- 
ducers were permitted to be present and take part in 
the consultation which somehow improvised itself in 
Godfrey’s pavilion on this very day succeeding the 
death. 

Tancred and Robert had gone first to relate to God- 
frey de Bouillon the circumstances attending the find- 
ing of the body of their grand-master. It happened 
that Raymond of Thoulouse, with his captain of 
Grillon and the brothers of Bourbon, had also sought 
Godfrey to tell the story of the page’s recantation. See- 
ing these knights going toward Godfrey’s pavilion, 
others of the chiefs had come up, until at length more 
than a thousand of the leading men of the army had 
assembled there without summons ; and when the 
place was so nearly filled that not many more could 
gain accommodation within, Tancred arose, at the 
earnest request of many true knights, and told the sad 
story he had come to tell to Godfrey. 

When Tancred had resumed his seat, Robert of 
Normandy desired to know how Guiscard de Grillon, 
Peter of Bourbon and Arnold of the Marche dared be 
present in that assembly. 

This called forth the story which the reader has 
already heard, of the page’s new revelation. 

And this opened up a general discussion upon the 
subject of Hugh de Vermandois’s case. Loud words 
were spoken on both sides, and at length it seemed 
that something harder than hard words was likely to 
follow. Robert of Normandy had just taken his seat, 
after having hurled defiance into the teeth of any 
man who dared stand before him and traduce the 
character of the dead prince, and the old Count of 
Thoulouse, boiling with passion, had started to his 
feet, in spite of all that Godfrey de Bouillon and 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


m 

Bohemond could do to maintain peace, when the whole 
assembly was electrified by a voice which at that mo- 
ment broke upon the air like a thunderbolt. 

“ Hold ! In the name of the dead, I command it !” 

And up the central aisle stalked the towering form of 
the Black Knight, his visor*shut close, and the sable 
plumes waving above his crest in solemn grandeur. 
With stately tread he advanced to the dais, and stood 
upon it, and having gracefully inclined his head to 
Godfrey, he turned to the assembled warriors. Those 
who sat in a line before him could see the burning 
fire of two lustrous orbs within that visor ; while all 
who gazed knew full well that they beheld a man of 
might and prowess. Had a robed spirit from the 
upper world come down in their midst, they could not 
have been more strangely or deeply moved. 

“ My lords and gentlemen, answer me !” he said, in 
tones that thrilled them to the very soul — tones so 
deep that they seemed to come from a closed tomb, 
and yet as powerful as ever sounded above the shock 
of battle : “ You have come to wrest the sepulcher of 

our Lord Jesus Christ from the hands of the infidel. 
Have you yet fought a battle ?” 

For a little time there was a dead silence, all seem- 
ing to shrink from meeting the strange presence, even 
in speech ; but at length the Prince of Otranto re- 
plied : 

“Yes, Sir Knight; we have not been idle all this 
while. We have had several light battles with the 
enemy outside, and one grand attack upon the city.” 

“ Did Hugh de Vermandois raise his arm against the 
infidel ?” asked the Black Knight. 

Tancred and Robert of Normandy, with the Count 
of Flanders and he of Blois and Chartres, were upon 
their feet in a moment ; but Tancred led the speech : 


THE BLACK KNIGHT’S CHALLENGE THE ATTACK. 379 

“Aye; Hugh of Vermandois it was who advanced 
farthest upon the walls, and who did more deeds of 
valor upon that day than were ever done by a single 
man before. I saw him myself hold his place against 
a full score of infidel swords, and the tower would have 
been carried if he had been supported.” 

And a hundred voices said : 

“ Aye, and amen !” 

“Answer me again,” pursued the stranger, in the 
same commanding tone. “ Can any man say that Hugh 
of Vermandois did ever lift his arm against the cause 
of the cross ?” 

For a few seconds there was a solemn silence ; and 
then Tancred, advancing to the open space before the 
dais, proclaimed : 

“ If any man hath it in his heart to answer to the 
prejudice of Prince Hugh in this, he is a liar, and the 
truth is not in him !” And as he thus spoke he threw 
off his gantlet and cast it upon the ground. 

Another silence, during which the true-hearted 
Italian gazed around upon the assembled knights to 
see if any chose to accept the alternative which he had 
offered, and then he turned to the stranger knight. 

“ Sir Knight, no man can say that.” 

And then he of the sable armor raised his hand and 
spoke again : 

“ Oh, ye ungrateful brethren of a true and gallant 
knight ! Ere yet the tear of grief hath been wiped 
from the eyes of mourning friends, and while the 
ghastly emblem of mortality hath not yet received the 
honors of a funeral rite, ye assemble here and make 
loud accusations against him whose arm ye no more 
fear ! Before God, Hugh of Vermandois was innocent 
of even a thought against the cause he had espoused ; 
and henceforth I am his champion and vindicator. 


380 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


Let the days elapse which common decency should 
give to mourning for the dead, and then I will present 
my body to the judgment of God, and with lance 
sword and ax, I will maintain the right ! And let not 
any man who hath traduced the noble prince flatter 
himself that he can escape the ordeal ! For, by the 
holy saint whose patronage I crave, I do swear this 
thing : Him who hath of his own free will declared 
that Hugh de Vermandois was a traitor, and who shall 
refuse the trial of arms I offer, I will seek in the cen- 
ter of the camp, and will there smite him in the face 
for a liar and a coward ! I claim five days of repose 
from my wearisome journey — which five days me- 
thinks should be given to the memory of the dead — 
and on the sixth day from this I will hold myself 
against all comers. God save the right !” 

And having spoken thus, the sable knight stepped 
down from the dais and stalked out as he had entered, 
with calm, majestic tread. 

“ Look !” whispered Tancred, pulling Robert of 
Normandy by the sleeve of his hauberk. “See where 
the cowed cravens wince !” 

Robert looked, and saw that Guiscard de Grillon and 
the two brothers of Bourbon were pale and tremulous, 
like men afraid ; and even the old Count of Thoulouse 
shook with a fearful tremor. 

Not another word was spoken against Hugh de Ver- 
mandois, but with murmurings of wonder the assem- 
bly broke up ; and from that hour there was one ques- 
tion upon every lip — a question which none could 
answer : “ Who is this strange knight that hath come 

unheralded to our camp ?” 

And while the crusaders were thus wondering, the 
object of their curiosity had sought the pavilion of 
the chief of the Vermandois, where Walter de St. 


THE BLACK KNIGHT'S CHALLENGE THE ATTACK. 381 


Valery, reverently kneeling, swore to serve and obey 
4iim. 

On the following day a consultation was held at the 
quarters of Vermandois, at which the black knight 
was present, on this occasion dressed in a suit of black 
velvet, his face covered by a mask of the same color ; 
and it was then and there decided that no funeral 
rites, further than had been already observed, should 
be performed until they reached Jerusalem. 

Three days of the five had passed, and but one theme 
had seemed to occupy the minds of the Christian 
knights in that camp. Guiscard de Grillon and his 
two companions moved about like doomed men ; and 
when they sought to find friends who would unite with 
them in maintaining the charge of treason against 
Hugh de Vermandois, they found not one. 

And why should such men tremble ? Where was 
there a knight who had boasted more of his prowess 
than had he of Grillon ? Aye, and he had not done it 
all vainly ; for many a true and stalwart warrior had 
bitten the dust before him. And where were there 
two who had more loudly prated of their deeds of 
valor and strength than had they of Bourbon and La 
Marche ? Surely such as they ought not to have held 
in fear the challenge to honorable combat from any 
single man. But it was marked that they possessed 
not their wonted spirit ; and Tancred was not far 
from the truth when he declared to a companion that 
they were haunted by a dread specter in the guise of 
a black knight. 

Three days had passed, and the evening was at 
hand — a calm, beautiful evening, with a bright, full 
moon just rising above the tops of the eastern hills, 
casting upon the camp of the crusaders a soft, silvery 
gheen that held to view every tent and every banner, 


382 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


rendering secrecy of movement a difficult thing. Still 
it was evening ; and the busy hum of the day was 
done, and the warriors were seeking their rest. 

Walter de St. Valery had just been out to observe 
where the moon was, and had reported to the black 
stranger that the third hour of the night was well- 
nigh spent, when an intruder glided unbidden into 
the pavilion. Walter’s hand had found the hilt of his 
dagger when the light of the lamp revealed the features 
of Hassan, the Ismaelian. 

“ Do mine eyes behold the stranger who hath but 
recently arrived in the East ?” the intruder asked. 

“ I am he,” replied the Black Knight. 

“ My Thrice Illustrious Master,” pursued Hassan, 
speaking rapidly, but calmly and distinctly, “ who hath 
his servants in every quarter of the world, and from 
whom nothing can be hidden, hath sent me unto you 
with most important information. Let this have atten- 
tion first, and then shall come that which alone concerns 
the dwellers within this pavilion. This night, ere the 
sixth hour is gone, Kilidge Arslan, at the head of a 
hundred thousand men, will sweep down upon your 
camp from the mountains ; and he thinks he will 
completely rout and destroy the whole Christian 
army.” 

*' But,” said the knight, in surprise, “ only this very 
day, now gone, spies came hither with sure intelli- 
gence that the Sultan had drawn his army away to the 
south.” 

“ That was only for deception. Not more than ten 
thousand men marched away ; and even they may 
come back.” 

“ And when will the Infidel strike ?” 

“ He may strike within an hour. My master had 
information from one who cannot be mistaken.” Has- 


THE BLACK KNIGHT’S CHALLENGE THE ATTACK. 383 


san cast a quick glance around the apartment, and 
then added, in a lower tone : “ Do you think the 
mighty Hashishin could fail to gain knowledge whence 
it pleased him ? Do you think the Sultan of Roum 
could live if the Old Man of the Mountain were to 
speak his doom ? Know ye that my own brother is 
Kilidge Arslan’s chief page !” 

Aye, both the knight and the squire realized how 
wondrously subtle was the power wielded by this 
white-haired Assassin ; but they had no time then for 
consideration of that subject. Placing full confidence 
in Hassan, and understanding his hint, they saw that 
the information concerning Kilidge Arslan’s proposed 
attack had come from one who held place near that 
chieftain’s person ; and straightway they resolved to 
act. But had Hassan any idea of the manner in 
which the Turk would come ? 

“ Yes,” replied the guard. “ The first swoop is to 
be made upon the quarter farthest to the north, 
away from the city. Those will be light, fleet horse- 
men, who can fly about at pleasure, and no great work 
will they seek to do ; because, when the suddenly 
started Christians have been drawn in that direction, 
the sultan, with his main army, will fall upon the quar- 
ter of Godfrey de Bouillon with all his might, and 
thence sweep in and spread destruction with an un- 
sparing hand.” 

“There is no time to be lost, good Walter,” spoke 
the Black Knight, casting off a velvet robe which he 
had donned for the evening. “ Go you to the quarters 
of our captains, and bid each one that he calleth his 
men and holdeth himself in readiness to follow me. 
Then send word to the Italian quarter ; then to De 
Bouillon, and let them call the rest. Our good Hassan 
will help me with my armor. Is it not so ?” 


384 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


The Feda 'i g ave a ready assent, and then to Walter 
he of the sable presence added : 

“ Give strict injunctions that not a herald rounds his 
loud-mouthed trumpet. There must be no note of 
warning to let the infidel know that we are aware of 
his purpose.” 

With this the esquire hurried away ; and very soon 
the notes of preparation sounded through the camp. 
And not a moment had the crusaders to rest upon 
their arms ; for within one hour after Hassan entered 
the pavilion of Vermandois, the night was made 
hideous by the wild war-cries of a thousand mounted 
Moslems that came sweeping out from the mountain 
forest upon the quarter of Robert of Flanders. They 
spread over a vast area of the plain as they swiftly 
advanced ; but a careful eye could have seen that, 
though occupying so much space, they were really few 
in number ; and, furthermore, that instead of hurry- 
ing to the charge, they circled around and swayed to 
and fro, evidently for the purpose of using up time. 
The Count of Flanders was himself sufficient for the de- 
fense of this point ; and when the matter had been 
explained to him,, he readily undertook it. 

Meantime the main army had been drawn up near 
the quarter of Godfrey de Bouillon, the mounted 
knights and men-at-arms so disposed among the tents 
that the flashing of their bright armor and spear- 
heads m the moonbeams should not expose them to an 
advancing foe. 

The conflict to the north had raged but a little while 
when the attacking party turned as if to flee, and at 
that juncture Bohemond who held position well in ad- 
vance, observed a dark mass separating itself from the 
distant wood. On it came, swelling and spreading — 
noiselessly at first — on with swifter motion, until at 


THE BLACK KNIGHT’S CHALLENGE THE ATTACK. 385 

length, when it had come so near that the tramp of the 
horses could be heard, one wild, prolonged cry like the 
howling of a thousand demons of* storm and tempest, 
broke upon the Christian camp, and ere the quake had 
ceased its reverberations full twenty thousand Moslems 
came thundering over the plain. 

As if by the touch of a magician s wand, a serried 
rank of iron-clad warriors appeared between the camp 
of the crusaders and the advancing foe, and ere the 
latter could draw a rein to wheel either to the right 
hand or to the left, another war cry shook the air, and 
at the very first shock more than a thousand Turks 
went down. 

“ It is the will of God ! It is the will of God !” 
shouted the crusaders, as they met and beat back the 
enemy at every point. 

“ Behold that man !” exclaimed Tancred, pointing 
with his dripping ax. 

“ Aye, I have marked him well,” answered Bohe- 
mond, twisting off a broken bar of his visor. “ See 
that stout Saracen go down ! What an arm?” 

It was of the Black Knight they spoke. 

One valiant chief there was at this moment in 
deadly peril. A score of Turks had slipped in among 
the tents of the quarter De Montpelier — one of Ray- 
mond’s divisions — and having seized a mass of booty, 
together with a young Christian maiden, they were 
making off, when Count Raymond discovered them, 
and without waiting to see if any of his knights or men- 
at-arms were with him, he plunged on in pursuit. Be- 
ing mounted upon the best horse in the camp, he 
gained rapidly upon the fleeing Turks and very shortly 
he dashed in among them and smote him who bore the 
maiden to death. One loud cry from the Moslem chief 
caused the whole party to come to a sudden halt, and 


386 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


before he could fairly remember how he had brought 
himself into such a strait, the old count found almost 
a score of stout Turkish warriors charging upon him 
— and he alone to meet them ! 

For a. little Raymond of Thoulouse held his own, 
his armor of finely tempered steel safely turning such 
blows as he could not dodge, or turn off upon his 
buckler. Four of the infidels had gone down beneath 
the blows of his ax — four beside him who bore the 
maiden ; but they still pressed upon him as hard as 
ever, and he was just muttering to himself that this 
was his last battle, when a new shout broke upon his 
ear, arousing him to hppe once more. 

“ God and Saint Denis /” was the note of war that 
sounded above the clang of arms, and in a moment 
more the Black Knight was by Raymond’s side. Like 
an avenging demon launched into the midst of con- 
demned spirits, came the sable warrior, and beneath 
the swiftly falling blows of his trenchant ax, the 
Turks went down like heads of corn before the knife 
of the reaper ; and ere long, those of the turbaned 
riders who still lived were seized with mortal dread, 
and sought safety in flight. 

“ You were rash, Sir count,” said the Black Knight, 
when it was clear that the enemy had no thought of 
turning back. “ Raymond of Thoulouse needs not 
undertake such hazardous work to prove his bravery 
to those who know him. See, the maiden waits for 
you.” 

And before the astounded count could speak a word 
of reply, the strange knight had ridden away toward 
the camp, where he arrived to find that the enemy had 
been entirely and disastrously routed, all who were not 
prisoners having fled back into the mountains. 


c 



CHAPTER XV. 

Gertrude’s challenge accepted. 

It had been whispered all through Nice, that the 
Emir Abu Hassa held a Christian maiden in captivity, 
whom he dared not meet in open combat, that she was 
very beautiful, and that he was dying of passion for 
her love ; but that she held her love to be won by the 
lance and sword, and that the old emir had not yet 
dared to meet her in the list. Some scoffed at the 
story, treating it as an idle fable ; but by far the ma- 
jority of the inhabitants believed it. They believed it 
because Zyr had said so, and Zyr knew everything that 
transpired in the emir’s palace. 

This Zyr was a giant of such prodigious strength 
that no four men were to be found in Nice who could 
stand against him. He was full ten spans in height, 
and of a firm and muscular build ; and he it was who, 
in steel armor, with a towering crest upon his helm, 
had repeatedly gone outside the walls and challenged 
any Christian knight to single combat. 

More than once had Tancred started to accept the 
braggart’s challenge ; and once had Bohemond and 
Robert of Normandy ; for the giant’s taunts were so 
insulting that they caused the brave knights of the 
Christian host to boil with indignation ; but wise and 

[ 387 ] 


388 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


cool counselors had kept the venturesome nobles back, 
bidding them remember that they had no right to 
throw their lives away. 

Zyr was an emir, and a brother of Abu Hassa ; and 
he declared upon his oath that his elder brother was 
afraid of the Christian maiden. But Zyr had a pur- 
pose in this. He greatly desired that Abu should meet 
the maiden and be defeated, in which event he hoped 
to win the beautiful woman for himself ; for he pos- 
sessed a susceptible heart, and the charms of his 
brother’s prisoner had not been lost upon him. 

At length it came to the ears of the emir that his 
soldiers talked in their quarters of their chieftain who 
was afraid of a woman ; and it may be that the Prin- 
cess Gertrude was indebted for the consideration to be 
shown her to a conversation which her master over- 
heard one day while he was passing through an out- 
of-the-way part of his palace. It was in a wing where 
old lumber was stored, and whither the emir had been 
to search for a rusty suit of mail which had been con- 
signed to the lumber-room some months before, and 
from which he wished to obtain a pattern for one of 
his armorers. He was stepping out from a closet-like 
apartment into a corridor which ran along by the side 
of the soldiers’ quarters, when the pronunciation of his 
own name arrested his attention. It was an open 
space high up in the partition that admitted the voices 
to his ears, while his person was entirely concealed. 

“ If Abu Hassa knew what a feeling existed among 
his followers, he would be surprised and mortified,” 
said one voice. 

“ Aye,” responded another, “ and I think he would 
give the beautiful Frank her wish. ’Sdeath, it is 
ridiculous to suppose that a woman could overcome 
the stout emir in battle,” 


Gertrude’s challenge accepted. 


389 


“ I don’t know,” added a third speaker. “ It hath 
been said that the maiden, despite her beauty, is mar- 
velously strong. One of the emir’s officers, in a 
gallant manner, offered her a kiss one day — he was 
drunk, I think — and it is reported that she struck him 
a blow which knocked him down. But that should not 
frighten the emir. I have heard honest men declare 
that they should fear to follow him to battle.” 

“ More than that,” said the first speaker. “ Some of 
the very best of Abu Hassa’s officers will request to 
be sent to some other command. They swear, by the 
beard of the prophet, that they will not follow a man 
who fears a woman.” 

“ But,” suggested a new speaker, “ may not the emir 
be influenced by emotions of gallantry ? May it not 
be the thought of raising a mortal weapon against a 
woman that deters him ?” 

“ No, no !” replied one of the others. “ He is afraid 
of her. Has she not declared that she would be his if 
he can overcome her with lance and sword ? Surely it 
doth appear that his love must either be very tame, or 
his fear very strong ; and I ’ll take my oath upon the 
Koran that his love hath not one whit of tameness.” 

At this the party laughed heartily, and all finally 
joined in the opinion that the emir was afraid. 

Abu Hassa walked away, very busily engaged in 
thought. One thing gave him torment of reflection. 
Brave men had wished to leave his command because 
they thought him a coward. And then he said to him- 
self : 

“ I will no longer let my prejudice govern. She hath 
for the time unsexed herself in usurping man’s pro- 
vince of battle, and I will regard her as a man, and 
dread the conflict no more.” 

Now in this the emir told himself that which was 


390 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


not exactly true. It had not been the fear of raising 
his arm against a woman that had held him back ; nor 
had it been solely the fear of defeat, for Abu Hassa 
was not a coward in that direction ; but it had been 
the dread of giving to history the sentence, “ The 
Emir Abu Hassa was felled , in single combat , by the 
hand of a woman J” 

But even that should restrain him no more. Ere he 
had reached his closet he had resolved that Gertrude’s 
challenge should be accepted at once ; and he further- 
more resolved that he would overcome her — without 
bodily harm, if he could ; but let the end be what it 
would, even to the losing of her in death, it should 
never be said that a daughter of the Christians, whose 
love he had sought, had conquered him in a trial at 
arms. 

And there was another consideration that bore 
much weight of influence. Though he had no fear of 
the crusaders entering Nice as conquerors, yet he 
doubted if the knights with whom he had corresponded 
would be able to induce their companions to raise the 
siege, now that it had been begun ; and if the sultan 
should finally give up and withdraw, and the city 
should surrender to the Greek Emperor, these cru- 
saders would be privileged to enter ; and then, if he 
had not already won the maiden, he would be very sure 
to lose her. 

The evening was calm and beautiful, the full, bright 
moon silvering with its beams the roofs and towers of 
the city, while the aroma of opening buds and dew- 
dipped blossoms loaded the air with a delicious fra- 
grance. Gertrude, the Christian captive, sat by an open 
window, looking out upon the scene, ever and anon 
speaking with herself, or answering some question put 
by the girl who attended her, 


Gertrude’s challenge acCeRTEIx 


391 


“ Nicetta, how many guards doth the emir employ to 
keep a watch upon me ?” 

The princess asked the question suddenly, with- 
drawing her gaze from the scene without, and looking 
up into the face of the maid, who chanced to be at that 
moment passing. 

“ I mean,” added Gertrude, who saw that the girl 
did not fully comprehend her, “ how many people Abu 
Hassa employs to care for me who would not be em- 
ployed if I were not here ?” 

Nicetta reflected, and finally replied that she was 
sure there were at least a hundred men who did noth- 
ing but guard her mistress. 

“And yet,” cried Gertrude, “he keeps me here, 
swearing that he is dying of love for me, and will not 
accept the terms I offer.” 

“ If you speak of the battle, my lady, I think you 
may make your mind easy ; for this very evening I 
heard the giant Zyr declare that his brother had resolved 
to fight you.” 

“ Ha ! Say ye so ?” 

“ Even so, lady.” 

“ Then bring me the bar and the buckler. Oh, if he 
does this I am saved !” 

Nicetta retired to an adjoining closet and presently 
returned, dragging in a bar of iron full five spans in 
length, and almost as large around as her own delicate 
wrist. This she dragged to the lady’s side and then 
went back and returned with a heavy shield of the 
same metal. 

These things, which the sprightly girl had found 
almost beyond her power to lift, seemed as implements 
of dry wood in the hands of the mistress. Slipping 
her left arm into the leathern beckets of the shield, 
with the free hand she grasped the iron bar and began 


392 GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 

to whirl it about in a manner which to Nicetta was 
strange and unaccountable. Sometimes in a circle, 
then to and fro and up and down, then a succession of 
thrusts, and then, poised at arm’s length, she held it 
so steadily that the point thereof did not quiver an 
atom. 

“ By the mass !” she cried, as she thus, stood — erect 
and firm, the line of her back perfectly straight, her 
arm extended at a right angle from her side, and the 
bar, held by one extreme end, poised in a direct hori- 
zontal line — “let Abu Hassa do that if he can! I 
defy him ! Ho, my gentle Nicetta, you need have no 
cause for fear if you see me arrayed in arms against 
the emir. My wrist was never before so strong as it 
is now ; and never before was my whole body in such 
perfect harmony of strength. I have no doubt that 
these things appear very curious to you ; but where 
so much — aye, more than life — depends upon the 
result of battle, one must have the physical strength 
to succeed ; and that strength can only be kept up by 
persistent exercise. Just think of it, Nicetta; one 
little quiver of the good right wrist before its time 
might lose the victory and bring sure defeat.” 

Nicetta’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction, because 
she saw from the manner of her mistress that she was 
confident of success ; and if all this strange whirling 
and poising of iron bars and swinging and surging of 
heavy wooden lances and imaginary attacks and de- 
fenses with ponderous old swords — if all these had 
helped to fit the lady for the work of battle, then she 
was glad that she had been forced, night after night, 
to witness the exhibition. 

Aye, Gertrude of Thoulouse knew too well the value 
of practice to neglect it, in view of the work which she 
might possibly have to do, and she had neglected no 


Gertrude’s challenge accepted. 


393 


means within her reach to keep her muscles in tune,- 
and her powers of physical endurance up to the re- 
quired pitch. And in this respect she knew she should 
have an advantage over the emir. He, by nature in- 
dolent and fond of ease, took exercise at arms only 
when forced ; and, though gifted with a goodly share 
of strength, he would be likely to fall under protracted 
effort. 

“ Hark ! Some one approaches. Away with these 
playthings, Nicetta !” 

Hardly had the closet-door been closed upon the 
strange “ playthings ” of the princess, when another 
door was opened, and a female attendant announced 
that the emir was in waiting. 

Nicetta withdrew, and Abu Hassa was ushered in. 
He approached the Christian maiden with a look of 
admiration, and when quite near he stopped and gazed 
upon her lovely face. Never, never had she looked 
more beautiful. Never had his eyes rested upon such 
a picture of female loveliness. 

Ah ! Could he have known what had given that 
rich color to her face, what had sent the warm blood 
to her cheeks and temples, and what caused the swell- 
ing of that full bosom — could he have known this, he 
might have found his reflections somewhat distracted 
from simple contemplation of her beauty. 

A few of the old love passages which he had been 
wont, from time to time, to recite in her presence, a 
few fresh compliments adapted to the occasion, and 
then the emir said : 

“ Sweet lady, even now my heart rebels at the 
thought of^poising a lance at such as thee and of rais- 
ing a sword against such loveliness, but if thou wilt 
have it so what can I do ? Is your determination un- 
changed ?” 


394 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


“ It is, emir,” replied the princess, calmly and se- 
renely, for her late exercise had imparted a vigor to 
her system that made her feel strong. 

“You demand that I meet you in the list, there to 
fight as though you were a redoubtable warrior ?” 

“ I demand that you give me that opportunity to win 
my freedom. You will fight as you please. If you love 
me as you say, and if you would not have me return to 
the Christian camp arid there find love in the heart of 
some one of mine own people, you will use all the 
power you can to overcome me.” 

The perfect coolness of the maiden, and the satisfac- 
tion she evinced at the thought of conquering him in 
the list, fired the emir with anger, and starting to his 
feet, he exclaimed : 

“ By Allah ! Thou shalt have thy wish ! Already do 
my own people begin to fancy that I am afraid to meet 
a woman in battle. Aye, they talk it openly. But they 
shall have no more ground for such suspicion, nor 
shalt thou have cause to taunt me more. To-morrow 
we will meet in the list and I swear to thee by the 
beard of the prophet that I ’ll spare thee not one jot ! 
Mark that !” 

“ If thou dost spare me, emir, it will be upon thine 
own head, for I swear to thee that I ’ll put forth all 
the power I possess to bring thee to the ground !” 

“ Enough ! To-morrow be it.” 

“ Remember, emir, thou didst promise me that four 
good knights might attend from the Christian army.” 

“No. I said three .” 

“ Well, three be it, then. Shall they have safe en- 
trance, and shall they have safe departure*?” 

“ I have sworn it. Let them come alone to the Gate 
of the Dragon, and they shall be admitted.” 

“And if I am victor, I shall go forth with them ?” 


Gertrude’s challenge accepted. 


395 


“ I have sworn it !” 

“Emir Abu Hassa,” spoke the princess, arising and 
standing before him, “ it is no secret to you that a 
slave of the Old Man of the Mountain is in my service, 
and that he hath companions always near to watch 
over his outgoings and incomings. Hashishin will 
not help me to leave you by stealth ; but should you 
break your plighted word touching the result of this 
battle, or should harm befall one of these Christian 
knights — 

The emir put forth his hand, and stopped her. He 
was pale, and the tremor that shook his frame told 
very plainly that the thought of awaking the vengeance 
of the dread chief of the mountain filled him with 
terror. 

“ I know !” he cried. “ I know all about it. Thou 
hast my oath. The three knights shall have safe en- 
trance within our city, and they shall depart in safety 
when they please ; but they shall only enter at the 
Gate of the Dragon, pass at once to the battlefield, 
and, in the end, return as they came. They are not to 
view the walls. As for thyself, gentle lady, be sure I 
shall keep thee behind.” 

Gertrude started. 

“ I mean that thou, not I, shalt be overcome in the 
list.” 

The princess bowed and the emir withdrew. 

Within an hour from that time Hassan glided into 
Gertrude’s apartment. 

“ Oh, good Hassan, it hath come at last. Where is my 
armor ?” 

“ I have it where my hands can touch it readily, 
lady.” 

“ Bring it to me this very night — immediately. I 
will wait !” 


396 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. • 


The Fcdai withdrew, and in less than an hour he re- 
turned, bearing with him the armor of the princess, 
which, when she beheld it, she knelt down and em- 
braced, shedding tears of joy and gratitude. 

“ Hassan, away now to the Christian camp ; and be 
thou the guide for my three knights on the morrow. 
The third hour of the day is the time fixed.” 

Shortly after this Gertrude retired, and never had 
she a sleep more sound and refreshing. She was 
aroused in the morning by a loud din without the 
palace, and upon going to the window she saw a crowd 
of soldiers collected in the court, and the burden of 
their excited eager speech, as it reached her ears, was 
of the coming battle between the Emir Abu Hassa and 
the Christian princess,, Gertrude ! 




CHAPTER XVI. 

A BATTLE FOR LIBERTY. 

Early on the morning after the attack of the Turks, 
Walter de St. Valery called upon Tancred and Robert 
of Normandy, and requested them to visit the Black 
Knight in the quarter of the Vermandois. Both the 
gallant chiefs responded cheerfully, for they had con- 
ceived a passionate love of this bold and stalwart 
warrior. Arrived at the pavilion, they were at once 
conducted to his presence in the inner apartment, 
where they found a youth whose face bore the stamp 
of Syriac origin. If they wondered what this stranger 
did here, they were not to be kept long in suspense. 

“Brothers,” said the Black Knight, with easy grace, 
but in tones which bore a strong tinge of sadness, 
“since my relations with Hugh de Vermandois have, 
in my own estimation at least, rendered it necessary, 
as well as eminently fitting, that I should take in hand 
his business affairs, I have deemed it no more than 
just and proper that I should assume his place in 
matters which he had arranged of a personal character. 
You are aware that the chief event upon which his 
enemies based their accusations against him was, his 
secret visiting of the city which we are besieging.” 

Tancred and Robert nodded assent. 

[ 397 ] 



$08 GkRTRtIDE THE AMA20M. 

“ You are this day to behold how false was the charge 
of bad faith based upon that act. Three Christian 
knights are called to enter Nice, to be present at a 
trial-at-arms between the Emir Abu Hassa and a 
Christian whom he hath held in bondage since the first 
damp days of the winter that is passed set in. The 
emir hath finally accepted the challenge of his prisoner, 
and doth accord freedom from further restraint upon 
condition of his defeat. And he hath futhermore given 
safe conduct, to and from the city, to any three 
Christian knights who may be chosen to be present 
to witness that the battle is conducted fairly and 
honorably. 

“And who is this Christian knight, that is held in 
bondage ?” asked Tancred. 

“ I said not it was a knight, my brothers.” 

The countenances of the two proud warriors fell, 
and they shook their heads in doubt. 

“ Sir Knight,” spoke Robert, kindly, but yet with 
just pride, “ it might not be hardly fitting for one who 
has refused the throne of a powerful nation to lend 
himself as an umpire for the quarrels of the common 
herd. Surely I respect the sympathy which moves you 
to espouse any cause that our noble Prince Hugh may 
have left uncared for ; but — ” 

“ Robert,” interrupted the Black Knight, with an 
admonitory wave of the hand, “ I know thou didst re- 
fuse the throne of England, upon which thy younger 
brother sits ; and yet thou art not nearer to a throne 
than may be she whom I ask you this day to serve.” 

“She /” gasped Robert and Tancred, at a breath. 

“You can keep a lady’s secret, and speak to no one 
of what you shall see and hear until the need is re- 
moved ?” 

“ We can.” 


A BATTLE FOR LIBERTY. 


399 


“ Then know ye that the Prince de Vermandois dis- 
covered, through this youth whom you here behold, 
that Gertrude of Thoulouse was held prisoner by the 
Emir Abu Hassa- and it was to visit her that he en- 
tered the city of Nice. They consulted together, and 
it was decided between them that the princess should 
meet the emir in the list, if he would consent. They 
might wait for the fall of the city, hoping then her 
friends would successfully demand her liberation ; but 
they feared treachery. Oh, there hath been more of 
treachery than you think ! But here it is : The prin- 
cess is this day — within two hours — to meet the emir 
in battle ; and she asks you to come.” 

For some moments the two knights were so filled 
with wonder and astonishment that they could not 
speak. The Duke of Normandy was the first to reply : 

“I crave your pardon ! Forgive me. Dolt that I was 
to allow the feeling for a moment to possess me that 
thou couldst have asked an unjust thing at my hands ! 
I am lost in wonder. # But we have not time to waste 
here. I will prepare at once, and thou shalt explain 
as we go forth upon our mission. This is the most 
wonderful thing I ever heard.” 

Tancred was equally moved ; and having given words 
to other thoughts, he added : 

“ By my faith, I do most firmly believe that the Lady 
of Thoulouse will win the day. I think my own great 
desire in her behalf will be answered to strengthen her 
arm.” 

Never did Tancred’s faith betray more enthusiasm, 
and never was his great heart more warmly enlisted. 
If ever a bold warrior lived who fought for renown 
without ostentation, and who ought to conquer with- 
out ambition, willing to wear the laurels of a hero 
while others wore the crown and bore the scepter, that 


400 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


man was Tancred of Otranto, almost the only prince of 
that crusade who never allowed the lust of power to 
win him from the stern duties of a soldier. 

In half an hour from that time the three knights, 
accompanied by Hassan, were at the Gate of the 
Dragon ; and when they had passed in, they found Zyr, 
in full armor, ready to receive them. At first Tan- 
cred and Robert hesitated, at thus finding themselves 
face to face with the redoubtable giant who had so 
often challenged them to combat ; but the latter quickly 
set their minds at rest. 

“ Sir Knights,” he said, inclining his head with a 
friendly smile, “ accept my guidance while you remain 
within these walls to-day ; and be sure you are with a 
friend. He who dares to offer insult to you puts shame 
upon Zyr.” 

The Christian knights replied becomingly ; and Tan- 
cred, after he had accepted the giant’s hand, remarked 
to his companions : 

“What a pity that I must of necessity be the enemy 
of that man !” 

Never had there been held in anticipation by the 
people of Nice an entertainment that produced such 
profound and eager excitement as was now manifest 
on every hand. Business was everywhere suspended, 
and it was only by the watchful care of the officers 
that the reliefs were held for the guard-houses. Long 
had it been known that Abu Hassa held in durance a 
Christian maiden, who was said to be very beautiful, 
and for several weeks it had been said that the lady — 
a princess by birth — had offered her love to the emir 
upon condition that he should overcome her at arms, 
she to have her freedom if she vanquished him. At 
first no credit had been given to this, but when Zyr 
came forth and publicly proclaimed it for the truth, 


A BATTLE FOR LIBERTY. 


401 


there could be no more doubt. At every street corner 
and in every shop people congregated and talked of 
the wonderful thing. A maiden, beautiful as an houri 
and chaste as Fatima, had offered to fight a Moslem 
knight with lance and sword for her freedom. It was 
wonderful beyond anything they had ever known. 

And now, when the news went abroad, proclaimed 
by the emir’s own herald, that the battle was to take 
place, the people were fairly frantic with excitement. 

“ Ah !” muttered Robert of Normandy, when they 
had reached the great square wherein the list was pre- 
pared, “ could our brethren but know of this auspicious 
hour, I believe the city could be taken without the loss 
of a hundred lives.” 

And no wonder he thought so, for every soldier not 
on guard was evidently in the square. 

Zyr had been appointed grand master of the cere- 
monies, and our three Christian knights very soon 
made up their minds that they had nothing to fear 
from treachery or unfairness on his part, and if they 
could have looked down into his heart they would have 
known that he almost wished to see his brother de- 
feated. He was not wicked enough to wish his brother 
dead, but he was ambitious and he was human. He 
had himself looked upon the Christian maiden with 
admiration, and should Abu Hassa die, he would be 
raised to the vacant place — the second office in the 
city. 

The square, or open space, was a large tract used in 
times of peace for the pitching of tents by traveling 
merchants and temporary residents, and the list, near 
its center, was an inclosure of light palisades, nearly 
as large as that in the Christian camp. Upon one side 
a platform had been erected, capable of accommodating 
a hundred people, or more, though there were a few 


402 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


seats higher than the others. Zyr had selected, in be- 
half of his brother, three Arabian knights, thinking 
they might be less objectionable to the Christians 
than Turkish knights would be ; and so profoundly 
sensible were our Christian warriors of this act of 
courtesy, that they embraced the gigantic master with 
gratitude. 

The six knights had been seated but a few minutes, 
when Hassan appeared, and informed the Black War- 
rior and his companions that the princess was fully 
armed and equipped, and ready to set out, and that 
she had bidden him assure them that she was sure of 
victory. 

“ But her esquire ?” demanded Tancred. “ Much de- 
pends upon his address and skill.” 

“ None better than Walter de St. Valery,” remarked 
the Black Knight. And then, observing the look of 
wonder upon the faces of both Tancred and Robert, 
he added : “ Walter came by another way, and, in all 
probability, reached the city before we did.” 

Before any reply could be made to this, a loud shout, 
with a succession of prolonged cries, arose from the 
entrance to the square, and presently the emir, Abu 
Hassa, made his appearance. He was clad in a superb 
suit of crimson armor, and mounted upon a steed of 
milky whiteness. He was a formidable looking war- 
rior, and rode with much grace ; and when Tancred 
had viewed him from top to toe, and had marked his 
stoutness of limb and the ease with which he handled 
his horse, he shook his head with doubt. 

“ God’s will be done !” he said. “ But I fear me 
much that the result of this day’s work will not please 
me !” 

Robert of Normandy seemed to hold the same um 
comfortable opinion ; and even he of the sable 


A BATTLE EOR LIRErTW 


m 


guise bore himself not like a man who is wholly at 
ease. 

The shouts which had died out upon the verge of 
the square, were pretty soon renewed with greater 
force than before, and as the din swelled and grew in 
power and volume, another warrior came upon the 
scene. For the time, be that presence man or woman, 
it is deserving the name of knight, and a knight she 
was from that time forth. 

Never rode a knight with more stately grace and 
beauty of motion, than marked the Amazon as she rode 
across the square. She was clad in plate armor of 
burnished steel, each separate piece being fit for a 
mirror ; upon her head she wore a helm of the same 
metal, surrounded by a crest of pure and polished sil- 
ver, above which floated a pair of magnificent ostrich 
plumes. Her horse was the one which Hassan had 
ridden in from the Christian camp, and Tancred rec- 
ognized it at once as Hugh’s favorite “Dominic.” 

At the outer edge of the square the cry had arisen, 
“That is not a woman !” and many had caught it up 
and repeated it. They could not believe that the stal- 
wart, warlike presence was a young and handsome 
maiden ; and in a moment of pride and defiance de- 
termined that they should know who had conquered 
their emir. Gertrude not only threw up her visor, but 
lifted the casque from her head and handed it to 
Walter. In an instant the long curls of molten gold 
swept down over her shoulders, and the people of Nice 
beheld the face of a maiden as beautiful as their imag- 
inations had ever given to the houri of Paradise. And 
so she rode, proud, beautiful, and defiant, until she 
had reached the list ; but when she had passed the 
barrier, she called Walter to her side, and while she 
gathered and confined the golden tresses, he placed 


404 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


the helmet upon her head, after which she advanced 
to the dais, drawing her horse up very near to the 
emir, her visor being raised. 

“ Noble knights," she said to the Christian trio, 
smiling sweetly as she spoke, “ your presence gives me 
new strength. If you think of God while this combat 
is in progress, forget not Gertrude in your prayers !” 

Tancred betrayed the most emotion of the three, 
though in the stern seclusion of the Black Knight there 
was something of feeling which could not be read. 
But the gallant Italian, brave and impulsive, would at 
that moment have fought the Moslem with a hoodwink 
upon his eyes, if he might thereby have set the lady 
free. But this might not be, so he was forced to see 
the work go on. 

The six knights in consultation had agreed upon the 
conditions, and it only remained for Zyr to announce 
them to the combatants as follows : 

They were to commence the combat on horseback, 
with the lance. They should take their respective 
places at the extreme end of the list, and should start 
at the second blast of the trumpet, the first blast signi- 
fying preparation. They might ride with a swiftness 
without limit, but neither should so swerve from the 
true course as to bring the horses one upon the other ; 
they should pass each other fairly to the left hand, 
striking with their lances as they pleased at any point 
above the girdle. They might thus ride until one or 
both had been unhorsed. When both had been un- 
horsed, if neither had been vanquished, they should 
take their swords ; nevertheless, if, when one had been 
fairly unhorsed, that one should so elect, the other 
should dismount and continue the combat on foot with 
the sword. Other rules were laid down, and in the 
end, Zyr said : 


A BATTLE FOR LIBERTY. 


405 


“ It is a Moslem against a Christian ; and we are ten 
thousand followers of the Prophet to one of the Cross ; 
but if wrong is offered by the Moslem, I swear that I 
will avenge it on the spot. As for the Christian, I 
will pledge my life that a thought of wrong finds not 
room in her heart !” 

Gertrude blessed him with a smile that sent joy to 
his bosom, and then, having closed her visor, she rode 
away to her place, where Walter stood in waiting. 
She told him that she was ready, and he took his posi- 
tion near the center of the list, about where th com- 
batants were to meet. 

Tancred, still nervous and uneasy, stepped down to 
the edge of the platform and beckoned to Walter, who 
hastened to him. 

“Walter, do you know the weight of Gertrude’s 
lance ?” 

“ It is a common battle lance, my lord. The shaft 
is of firmest ash, and the head of steel.” 

“ Good !” ejaculated the Italian, resuming his seat. 
“ If she have strength of arm like that, and her endur- 
ance faileth not, she will win the day !” 

He had observed how she swept and poised the 
weapon, and the thought had occurred to him that it 
must be a light, frail affair, and hence his eagerness 
to gain information. 

At the first blast of the herald’s trumpet every tongue 
was hushed, and the thousands upon thousands of eyes 
turned to and fro, from end to end of the list. 

The second blast, and like two bolts from two oppos- 
ing mangonels, started the horses from their places. 
If the emir had entertained a thought of striking to 
spare the Christian maiden, that thought had vanished. 
He saw before him an Amazon of known courage and 
prowess, who meant to defeat him if she could, and 


406 GERTRUDE THE AMAZOK. 

who . would strike without mercy ; and, what was of 
more account to him, he felt sure that ninety-and-nine 
of every hundred people who looked upon the scene, 
his own brother included in the major number, would 
be glad to see him vanquished. So he grasped his 
spear with all his might, and put forth all his cunning. 
As he made the motion of the heel that drove the 
rowels into his horse’s flesh, and aimed his gleaming 
spear, his nearest attendant heard him distinctly, and 
quite fervently, pray : 

“ Great Allah, grant that I do not slay her at this 
very first onset !” 

And his prayer was answered in a most remarkable 
manner. From the direction in which he bore his 
point, it was evident that he meant to twist the lance 
of his opponent from her grasp, and, if possible, throw 
her out from the saddle at the same time ; and in the 
eagerness with which he applied himself to this work, 
he must have forgotten that she could strike as well 
as he, else he would have made more provision for 
defense. 

Tancred and Robert were upon their feet, their 
hearts hushed. 

“ Ha ! See !” The princess had dropped the rein, 
knowing that the horse would do his duty, and thus 
she held her buckler at her will. 

“ It is God ! God’s will be done !” cried the excited 
crusaders, as they were wont to cry when victory 
perched upon their banners. And this is what they 
had seen : 

As the two combatants came together, the point of 
the Moslem’s lance was seen to touch the surface of 
Gertrude’s buckler, and pass off harmless over her 
shoulder, while her own point, having, with lightning- 
like motion, described a circle in the air, struck the 


A BATTLE FOR LIBERTY. 


407 


emir’s cuirass full in the center ; and, as the tremen- 
dous force of the shock threw him backward, the 
princess bore her lance so stoutly and so steadily, that 
the point glided up under the gorget, caught the bars 
of the visor ; and, in spite of all the Moslem could do, 
he was dragged out from his saddle, and borne some 
little distance upon the maiden’s lance ere he fell 
sprawling upon the ground. 

It had all been done in an instant ; but so eagerly 
had the people watched, that all saw plainly how it 
had beeen done. The skill of the Christian maiden 
was something to be wondered at ; but that was as noth- 
ing in the estimation of the spectators, compared with 
the marvelous strength of arm which had enabled her 
to bear the heavy man bodily out of his saddle. 

It was with difficulty that the Christian knights re- 
strained themselves from hastening to the princess’s 
side ; but it was not their right ; and they were very 
soon made easy, for they saw that she had come forth 
unscathed, and they knew that Walter de St. Valery 
understood his duties. 

For a few moments it was feared that Abu Hassa 
had been seriously injured, if not killed ; but the point 
of the lance had not touched his throat. Instead of 
passing up under the chin, it had glided off toward 
the ear ; so that the only harm done him was such as 
came from the shock ; and this did not prevent him 
from very soon standing erect, and demanding the trial 
of the sword. He would not ride again. 

The Christian knights would have objected to this, 
if there had been any ground ; but the emir had the 
right, and they were forced to submit. 

They were not long in making the preparations ; and 
when the Moslem chief went forth this time, he went 
with the determination to conquer, let the result be 


408 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


what it might. He saw — and heard — that of all the 
thousands who had come to witness the combat not 
one showed any sympathy for him ; nor was there one 
who seemed inclined to pray for him. And how could 
he expect it otherwise ? His antagonist was a woman, 
and these people had seen with their own eyes that 
she was young and very beautiful ; and, furthermore, 
these people were all human. 

But Abu Hassa observed one thing that inspired him 
with courage. He could see that the thousands of faces 
all bore anxious and uneasy expressions. Even the 
knights upon the platform exhibited the same feelings. 
Aye, and his brother Zyr believed now that he was to win. 

For a few brief moments it was as though the hush 
of a calm midnight had fallen upon the vast square. 
Not only was every tongue dumb and every limb mo- 
tionless, but even those ten thousand hearts seemed to 
have suddenly stopped their beatings. 

Could it be possible that the Christian maiden pos- 
sessed the strength of wrist necessary to the successful 
use of so heavy a sword, and could she endure to the end ? 

The followers of the cross and the followers of the 
prophet all prayed alike. The maiden was beautiful 
and innocent, and had been unfortunate. She had 
done no wrong to any one, and sought only her liberty. 
Aye ; she had offered to purchase her liberty with her 
life. Surely he must have been a monster who gave 
her not his sympathies. 

“ Gertrude,” spoke the emir, after the last trump had 
sounded, “ I will not do thee harm if I can help it ; but 
I tell thee, plainly and truly, and with all good intent, 
that thou hadst better surrender at once.” 

•“ Look to thyself, Abu Hassa ! The charge has been 
sounded !” And as she spoke, she tapped the point of 
her sword upon his buckler. 


A BATTLE EOR LIBERTY. 409 

And. then came the battle charge. A few strokes — 
a few parries — a few changes of position, and it became 
evident to all who gazed upon the scene that the maid- 
en made the best use of her sword. A little while she 
answered with her own blows only in time with the 
somewhat tardy movements of her antagonist ; but 
gradually she quickened the strokes — quicker and 
quicker, her sword flashing and whirling and leaping 
— her buckler ever ready to take the blows offered from 
above, while, by her quick and graceful movements of 
body, she avoided those thrusts which were made at 
vulnerable points. 

What in the world was she doing? Literally seek- 
ing to exhaust the stout emir without doing him bodily 
harm ! Many times had she opportunity to strike 
when she did not ; and many a deadly thrust was with- 
held ere the vital point was reached. Yet she struck, 
and struck with right good will — struck until she had cut 
his gorget from his throat, hewn the vambraces from 
his left arm, cut the shoulder-strap of the cuirass, and so 
smashed down his visor that his left eye was useless. 

What strength ! What power of endurance ! How 
could it be ? 

Ah, they did not know that for long and weary 
weeks, while the emir had been lounging upon his soft 
divan, the maiden, with sword and buckler and with 
massive bars of iron, had been preparing for this event. 

Weaker and weaker grew the Moslem, and at length, 
when his buckler began to droop and his blows to fall 
aimless and uncertain, the maiden caught his sword- 
point under her guard, and with a quick, powerful jerk, 
she hurled his weapon high into the air, throwing him 
backward with a force that sent him to earth, and 
while he was going down, she with wonderful dex- 
terity, caught the descending sword fairly by the hilt. 


410 


-GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


Never did the eye of Christian knight rest upon a 
prouder sight. There stood the princess, not a rivet 
of that armor started, not a plate marred, no spot of 
blemish upon its burnished surface ; erect she stood, 
her head thrown gracefully back, her whole figure the 
very model of grace and ease, in her hands the two 
swords, their points resting upon the ground, while at 
her feet, supine and helpless, lay the man who had 
been her opponent. 

While the air was rent with the shouts of the excited 
spectators — shouts that shook the very earth and 
startled the Christian army without into eager, anxious 
watching — they went and lifted the emir to his feet and 
bore him to the platform, where his bruised and shat- 
tered armor was removed, and his body examined. 
But he had received no serious wound ; he was only 
exhausted, that was all. Would he continue the combat ? 

Poor man ! He had hardly strength to make audible 
reply, much less to take the sword again. 

They offered to the princess the emir’s horse, and all 
his equipment ; but she only kept the sword. She 
had won that fairly, and she would bear it away with her. 

“ Sweet lady,” said Zyr, stepping down from his ele- 
vated seat and extending his hand, “ since no hope was 
ever mine that the light of thy lovely face could shine 
alone for me, I feel a profound and heart-born joy in 
restoring thee to the care of thine own people. Thou 
hast won thy freedom right bravely. Go — go with 
your countrymen, and may the richest gifts of earth 
be thine below ; and may the gates of Paradise be 
opened to thee when this life is done !” 

He raised her hand to his lips and a bright tear fell 
upon it as he kissed it. Then he turned away, and 
presently afterward the Black Knight led the maiden 
to where Walter waited with the horses. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE FINAL JUDGMENT. 

The morning’ of the sixth day from the giving of the 
Black Knight’s challenge at length dawned, and great 
was the excitement prevailing. N ot only had thecircum- 
stances attending the original charges of treason against 
Hugh de Vermandois been of a nature to keep alive 
deep and un altering interest in the breasts of the zeal- 
ous crusaders, but the coming of the strange knight, 
his ready assumption of Hugh’s cause, and the mystery 
which enveloped him, had made that interest so in- 
tense that to some it became almost painful. And this 
was not all. Prince Tancred of Otranto and Duke 
Robert of Normandy, than whom there were none in 
that army more reverenced and admired for their ster- 
ling honor and unconquerable valor, had publicly pro- 
claimed that a second knight claimed the privilege of 
fighting against the enemies of Hugh de Vermandois. 
Godfrey de Bouillon, who had come to be acknowl- 
edged as the leader and whom none cared to disobey, 
had heard the story of this second knight’s wrongs 
and had declared that they were to be received and 
respected. 

It had been arranged that the meeting should be 

[4 1 1 J 


412 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


held in the list and that there all preliminaries should 
be settled, and at an early hour in the day the knights 
began to assemble. It was known that a second 
strange knight had arrived in the camp and had found 
quarters with Stephen of Blois and Chartres, but who 
he was or whence he came, none could tell. The Black 
Knight went several times to Stephen’s quarters to see 
his stranger companion, and many were the curious 
ones who hung upon his steps, seeking eagerly to gain 
even a grain of knowledge concerning this double 
mystery, but all their labor was in vain and they turned 
from the prying labor no wiser than they were at first. 
Count Stephen’s wife was with him and superintended 
the affairs of his household, and some of those knights 
who had broken lances in honor of the gentle countess 
now approached her for information, thinking she 
would gladly tell them all she knew. But the Lady 
Adela only shook her head, declaring that she had 
nothing to tell. 

As the dial which had been set tip in the center of 
the camp marked the arrival of the fourth hour of the 
day, Godfrey de Bouillon left his pavilion, and moved 
on foot toward the list. With him were the two 
bishops, Adhemar de Montell and Odo of Bayeux, 
together with the chiefs, Bohemond, Tancred, Robert 
of Normandy, Robert of Flanders, and another Robert, 
Count of Paris, also Stephen of Blois and Chartres, 
Everard of Prusaie, Richard, prince of Salerno, and 
the old Count Raymond of Thoulouse. These pro- 
ceeded to the list, and took seats upon the raised plat- 
form, having been selected to act as judges on the 
occasion. The Black Knight had named Tancred and 
Robert of .Normandy, while Guiscard de Grillon and 
his companions had named Robert of Paris and Richard 
of Salerno. Then these four had selected four others, 


THE FINAL JUDGMENT. 


413 


and the eight knights thus designated had made choice 
of Raymond of Thoulouse to act as umpire. Godfrey 
de Bouillon was elected to preside, and as the matter 
was one of grave import, he called the two bishops to 
assist him. 

There had been a change in the feelings of Ray- 
mond of Thoulouse. Guiscard de Grillon had sought 
him, and asked him to act as his chief judge ; but the 
old count had flatly refused. Though still willing to 
believe that De Grillon was in the right, he could not 
lend himself to occupy a place where he would appear to 
sit in judgment against a man who had so bravely and 
unselfishly come to his rescue, and saved him from 
the hands of the Infidels. 

“Iam willing to sit as an independent judge,” he 
had said ; “ and in that case I should give you every 
point that should appear to be justly your due.” 

So the friends of the accusing party had named 
Raymond for umpire, and not one of the others had 
objected. 

As soon as the judges had taken their seats, the 
heralds made proclamation throughout the camp that 
the trial was about to proceed, warning all, not kept 
away by duty, to be present, and to strictly observe 
the result, and be governed thereby. It was called 
“ The Judgment of God” invoked by the knights whose 
names were given, “ to be rendered npon the termination 
of a Trial at Arms between the said knights.” 

In less than half an hour after the first note of prep- 
aration was sounded, every knight and footman not 
elsewhere on duty had arrived and taken position at 
the list, and the ground was of such a nature that all 
could easily witness the proceedings. Of late Guiscard 
de Grillon and his two companions had spent much 
time in military exercise, especially with the sword 


414 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


and ax ; and in every possible way had they sought 
to gain strength and vigor for the work which was in 
store for them. And on this morning they had been 
abroad seeking to inspire their companions in arms 
with the belief that they were three righteous men, 
and that their cause was just. 

The excitement was at its height. Not a loud, up- 
roarious excitement, but an emotion deep and pervad- 
ing, manifest in eager looks and anxious waiting, every 
man seeming to feel himself a judge, upon whose 
decision this thing was to finally rest. But there were 
whisperings of the two strange knights, and of guesses 
concerning their identity ; and on all hands there were 
confessions of joy and thankfulness in view of the near 
approach of the time when the veil was to be lifted. 

At length a murmur at the main entrance to the 
field, which was caught up and borne along until it 
swelled to a shout that shook the very vault, announced 
the arrival of the Black Knight and his companion. 
The Black Knight they had all seen before, but not the 
gallant-looking warrior who now bore him company. 
They presented a strange contrast, these two knights, 
as they rode into the list — the one clad in armor black 
as jet, with the sable plumes floating above his cfest, 
while the other wore an armor polished so brightly 
that it gleamed like burnished silver, with plumes of 
pure white surmounting the helm. He of the sable 
garb was the largest of stature, and mayhap the most 
powerful of limb, but the other displayed such an ex- 
quisite grace and ease of carriage, and in every move- 
ment gave token of such suppleness of body, that the 
beholder felt assurance at once that might and power 
were combined in marvelous degree within that fault- 
less frame. 

Arrived at the space in front of the dais, the Black 


THE FINAL JUDGMENT. 


415 


Knight dismounted and addressed the court as fol- 
lows : 

“ My lords and noble knights, the day and the hour 
have arrived, and I appear before you to fulfill my 
vow ; and with me I bring one who hath right to fight 
by my side in defense of the character of Hugh de 
Vermandois. Touching that matter, I refer you to the 
three valiant knights and noble princes, Tancred of 
Otranto, Robert of Normandy and Stephen of Blois 
and Chartres. If they shall swear that my compan- 
ion’s claim is just, and that he is of gentle birth, I trust 
there will be no objection. That claim being ad- 
mitted, I propose my challenge thus : 

“ Guiscard de Grillon, Peter of Bourbon and Arnold 
de la Marche are, each and every one, false knights 
and wicked men, in that they have done divers deeds 
unworthy of knighthood, whereby their names are a 
by-word and a reproach, and their characters black 
like unto sin itself. For these things their hearts do 
already reproach them, and the torments of Satan 
shall be their portion. But, in addition to these things, 
these same false knights, whose names I have called, 
have dared cast reproach upon the character of a 
true and faithful follower of the cross, and to traduce 
the name of one whose sandals they were never worthy 
to loose. And now, we two, placing our trust in God, 
do challenge those three to meet us in battle at this 
time and in this place, here and now to invoke the 
judgment of God upon the cause between us ! 

“ My lords and noble knights, in such a battle the 
horse and the lance cannot well be. used ; so we demand 
that the said Guiscard de Grillon, Peter of Bourbon 
and Arnold de la Marche do meet us with sword and 
buckler, face to face, and that they do stand and fight, 
and make good their charges upon our bodies, or sub- 


416 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


mit to the defeat which we pray God to vouchsafe. 
So pray we, and may God protect the right.” 

There was much surprise on the part of those who 
were not prepared for this announcement, and at first 
there was a disposition to refuse the petition on account 
of its unfairness to the challengers themselves ; but 
after deliberation, in which the Prince of Otranto and 
the Duke of Normandy took an active part, the matter 
was decided, and Godfrey de Bouillon ^irose and an- 
nounced that the challenge was more than fair to the 
challenged party, and he summoned the three respond- 
ing knights to appear before him. They were at hand, 
and were quick to answer the summons, De Grillon 
having been commissioned to speak for his com- 
panions. 

Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, when he had looked upon 
the three knights, and had marked them well, turned 
to his brother prelate, and remarked : 

“ Adhemar, those knights are not so easy at heart as 
they would have us believe. I can mark the unrest of 
their consciences ; and I can see that they dread the 
wrath of God. Do you note that slight inclination of 
the body from its proud elevation ? And do you mark 
ever and anon a movement as though something were 
drawing uncomfortably about their necks ?” 

The bishop saw it all, and it was as he had said. 
And he was not the only one who had observed the 
same thing. 

Guiscard De Grillon spoke with pompous air. The 
present meeting was not of his seeking. He and his 
companions could never have thought of offering to 
fight two knights at one and the same time, so that 
two should be pitted against three ; but if the two 
venturesome strangers, seeking renown in arms, per- 
sisted in their demand, then he, speaking for his 


THE FINAL JUDGMENT. 


417 


brothers, would accept the challenge as it had been 
given. 

“ And,” he said in conclusion, “ not to us, but to God, 
be the victory ascribed !” 

The rules laid down were very simple. They were 
to fight agreeably to the laws of chivalry ; and they 
were to fight to the death if there was no surrender. 

The Black Knight and his companion gave their 
horses up to Walter, and then walked together to the 
center of the list, conversing earnestly as they went. 
They had taken their places, and drawn their swords, 
when the three opponents appeared before them. 

At that moment the thousands of hearts were 
hushed, and not a breath arose to interfere with the 
speech of, Godfrey, who arose and stretched forth his 
naked sword, saying, as he did so : 

“ God uphold the right ! Let the just be brave ! 
Let the wicked tremble, and be afraid ! Behold the 
judgment of God ! Strike /” 

In an instant the Black Knight advanced, as though 
to invite all three of the opponents ; and on the same 
instant, it became very evident that those three feared 
him. It was apparent in their hesitation and in the 
perceptible tremor which shook their frames. The 
Black Knight cast one quick glance at his companion, 
and then he turned upon De Grillon. The captain 
caught the glance of the two eyes that looked out 
upon him from behind those bars, and a cry of terror 
burst from his bloodless lips. As though by a light- 
ning stroke his sword was beat down, and on the next 
instant the point of the sable knight was at his throat, 
driven under the gorget and over the rim of the cuirass. 
Those who stood near to the list saw the movement — 
saw the sword beat down — saw the blade of the 
avenger, like a flash of light, leap to the throat — saw 


41 &- GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 

the bright point disappear— saw the traducer’s arms 
flying wildly in the air — then saw the Black Knight 
shake him from the trenchant blade — and Guiscard de 
Grillon fell backward, his squadron left without a 
captain. 

It had all been done so quickly that to some it 
appeared incredible ; but when they had time, with 
their hearts bounding not quite so wildly, to think 
over what they had seen, they understood it perfectly ; 
and they saw that the stout captain had fallen beneath 
an arm that was not to be resisted. 

When the Black Knight had freed his sword, he 
found that not another blow had been struck. His 
dash at De Grillon had seemed to paralyze the other 
two, and they had watched for the result, all uncon- 
scious of what they did ; but now they started to life, 
and the sable warrior attacked Peter of Bourbon, 
leaving Arnold de la Marche to his companion. 

The knight of Bourbon fought with desperation, but 
he must have felt from the first that his case was 
hopeless. He could not help seeing that he was at 
the mercy of his opponent ; and directly that opponent 
gave him proof that he held such to be the case. 

“Peter of Bourbon, thrice have I spared thy life. 
Wilt thou ask it at my hands by surrendering?*’ 

“ Never !” was the answer, fierce and vindictive. 

And he would have sworn by an oath, had not the 
ponderous blade of his antagonist at that moment de- 
scended upon his head with a force that crushed the 
convex steel of the helm in upon his skull, felling him 
to the earth like one dead. With his foot upon Bour- 
bon’s breast, the Black Knight looked to see how it 
was with his companion. And we may here remark, 
that not once had he lost sight of that companion. 
Though he had fought with the Bourbon, yet not a 


TGe final Judgment. 419 

sweep had the sword of De La Marche made that he 
had not seen. He looked now more at his leisure, and 
a cry of joy burst from his lips as he saw Sir Arnold 
go down with the sword of the white-plumed knight 
driven completely through his body. 

Then he knelt upon the Bourbon’s breast, and pre- 
sented the dagger to his throat. 

“ Peter de Bourbon, hast thou sense and reason 
left ?” 

The fallen knight groaned in agony. 

Then the Black Knight unlaced the battered helm, 
and drew it off. This gave Peter quick relief, and his 
senses returned ; and when he felt the knee of the 
avenger upon his breast, and saw the gleaming dag- 
ger ready for the finishing stroke, he cried aloud for 
mercy. 

“ Peter de Bourbon, thy life is in my hand, and I 
hold it in judgment. Tell me ; wast thou guilty in 
every charge thou didst make against Prince Hugh of 
Vermandois ?” 

And the wretch made answer : 

“ I was guilty of falsehood from first to last.” 

“ Then thou art no more worthy to die by the hand 
of a true knight. Get thee up and go to thy doom.”. 

And thus speaking, the Black Knight arose, and took 
his companion of the white plume by the hand, and 
together they approached the dais. 




CHAPTER XVIII. 

REVELATIONS CONCLUSION. 

“It ts the Will of God ! It is the Will of God !” 

Such was the cry that broke from a hundred thou- 
sand lips, as, with wild and eager movement, the peo- 
ple rushed toward that part of the field whence they 
could look upon the victorious knights as they stood 
before the judges ; for now they were to know who 
and what was the man that had caused so much of ex- 
citement and discussion in the Christian camp ; and 
they fully believed that other revelations were to be 
made. 

Slowly the Black Knight approached the dais, and 
when he had reached the herald’s stand he stopped 
and addressed the judges : 

“ My lords and noble knights,” he said, still keeping 
his visor closed, “ we have met the traducers, and we 
have fulfilled our vow. We fought for Hugh de Ver- 
mandois. How standeth he now ?” 

Godfrey de Bouillon arose, and on the instant every 
tongue was hushed, that his words might be heard. 
In him the crusaders instinctively beheld their leader, 
and already they had learned to honor and obey him 
[420] 


REVELATIONS CONCLUSION, 


421 


above every other chieftain. And these were the 
words that Godfrey spoke : 

“ Brethren in arms, listen to the judgment which God 
hath given us to pronounce : The memory of Hugh de 
Vermandois standeth this day above reproach ; and he 
who shall dare henceforth to speak evil of the knight 
whose cause hath been so gallantly maintained shall 
answer with his life ; for know ye, that we who sit 
here in judgment do hold ourselves ever bound, with 
lance and sword, to defend the right. These things 
our heralds will proclaim throughout the camp. God's 
will be done /” 

When the joyous cries of satisfaction had made 
manifest the feelings of the assembled warriors, of 
high and low degree, Godfrey addressed the Black 
Knight as follows : 

“ And now, Sir Knight, we claim at thy hands a re- 
moval of the mystery which hath enveloped thy person 
since thou hast been in our midst. Behold the anxiety 
of the people. They would know the hero of this oc- 
casion, that they may render unto him the honor which 
is his due.” 

“Noble Godfrey,” replied the knight, “ere I reveal 
my face, I have somewhat to tell of the story of Hugh 
de Vermandois ; and I think I shall tell it so that all 
will understand how foully he hath been dealt with ; 
and not only him, but others who have found grief at 
the same fount that shed such bitter waters. Listen 
to me, and I will explain those things which have 
not yet been explained. They have all been written 
down, and Walter de St. Valery hath had them in 
possession ; and I will tell them as they were written : 

“ You all know full well the circumstances attending 
the shipwreck of the fleet of the Vermandois upon 
the coast of Epirus. The first thing that occupied the 


422 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON* 


attention of Hugh, after having dragged himself on 
shore, was to prepare for the safety of the Lady Ger- 
trude, who was his affianced bride. He found a com- 
fortable place beneath the roof of a poor fisherman, 
and there he left her, while he went to see if the horses 
could be got on shore. All night long he worked upon 
the wreck-strewn shore ; and while he worked, three 
false-hearted nobles conceived and executed a plot so 
wicked that the heart of a robber might stand appalled 
in contemplation thereof. They were Guiscard de 
Grillon, Peter of Bourbon, and Arnold de la Marche. 
They had all been suitors for Gertrude’s hand, and 
had been rejected ; and now they found opportunity 
for revenge, both upon the maiden who had refused 
them, and upon him whom she had accepted. At 
Durazzo lay a pirate of Tyre, and these men made a 
bargain with this pirate that they would deliver the 
maiden into his hands, and he should convey her to 
Nice, and there deliver her into the hands of the Emir 
Abu Hassa, who was an uncle to Guiscard de Grillon — 
Sir Guiscard’s mother having been a native of Bithynia. 
And thus they did their work : 

“ During that dark night, Sir Peter and Sir Arnold 
went to the fisher’s cot, and told to Gertrude that 
Hugh was dead — that he had been killed while getting 
the horses on shore — and they bade her that she should 
choose between them which she would take for a 
husband ; and when she had so spurned them both 
that they knew their case was hopeless, the claims of 
De Grillon were presented. And then they told her 
of the pirate and threatened that if she remained ob- 
stinate she should be sent away by him ; and when she 
would not yield they did as they had said. They 
dragged her away to the pirate ship, and De Grillon 
sent six of his own men-at-arms to keep her company,- 


REVELATIONS— CONCLUSION. 423 

and to see that she was safely delivered into the hands 
of the emir. And this was the compact which they 
made with Abu Hassa of Nice. He was to take 
the maiden and keep her until the Christian army ap- 
proached that city, and then, if Gertrude had relented 
and would became De Grillon’s wife, he would take 
her, trusting to the time for the means whereby he 
plight satisfy her father. Perhaps he thought the lady 
would lie for him. But if at that time the maiden was 
still determined not to give her hand to De Grillon, 
then the emir was to keep her for his own, provided 
he could do so. There were other things in this com- 
pact — things of a treasonable character — which I will 
not. tell to you now. Suffice it for me to say that the 
Lady Gertrude was delivered to the emir at Nice, and 
that the six men-at-arms who bore her company car- 
ried to Abu Hassa their own death-sentence. Guiscard 
de Grillon wrote, in the letter which they delivered, 
that they should be instantly put to death, that their 
tongues might never tell what their ears and eyes had 
heard and seen. And it was done as had been com- 
manded. 

“ You know, my lords, how your army reached Nice. 
You had not been here a great while when the three 
traitors began to fear that Hugh might discover the 
whereabouts of Gertrude, and hence their desire to be 
rid of him. I only wonder why they did not poison 
him outright. And Hugh did make the discovery. 
First he discovered her on the wall seeking to escape, 
during your attack upon the city. He caught but a 
glimpse of her then, for when he would have rushed 
to her assistance, a hundred men beat him back ; but 
he could not doubt the evidence of his senses, and 
firmly believing that his love was held prisoner within 
those Avails, he could ftn4 no; rest, until he had .satisfied 


424 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


himself. In this emergency he sought the assistance 
of the Old Man of the Mountain, who sent unto him a 
trusty servant ; that servant entered Nice, there 
found the Princess Gertrude, and brought forth a mes- 
sage to the prince that he should come in and counsel 
her. So now, my lords and noble knights, I think you 
may begin to understand why Hugh de Vermandois 
sought entrance to the besieged city, and also why he 
sought the Old Man of the Mountain. It was Ger- 
trude herself who had obtained from him a pledge that 
he would not make her presence known to her friends 
without until she had made at least one trial for her 
freedom.” 

As the Black Knight ceased speaking, amid all that 
throng of strangely excited men, the old Count of 
Thoulouse was the only one who found words for 
speech, and even he was wild and incoherent. 

“ Sir knight !” he cried, starting to his feet, “ how . 
can these things be ? Who shall prove that Guiscard 
de Grillon was such a villain ? Are his lips not sealed ?: 
Where is the proof ? Oh, my soul ! And I have been 
such a tool in the hands of wicked men ? It cannot be ! 
It cannot be ! Where are the proofs ? I have trusted 
Guiscard de Grillon — you know I have trusted him. 
Where are the proofs of what you charge ? The 
proofs !” 

“ Here they are ! Behold them !” 

As the Black Knight thus spoke he turned to the 
companion who stood by his side, and having loosed 
the straps of the upper armor, the helm was lifted from 
the head, and at the same moment the gorget, the 
cuirass, the shoillder-plates, and the vambraces fell to 
the ground, and the fair form and beautiful features 
of the Princess of Thoulouse stood revealed before the 
astonished multitude. The old Count Raymond was. 


REVELATIONS CONCLUSION. 


420 


for a moment, as one transfixed ; but like a flash 
came the story he had just heard to his mind, connect- 
ing the past with the present, and when the dark gulf 
was thus bridged over, he started down and caught I 
his long-lost daughter to his bosom. 

“ Come, come,” cried Godfrey, realizing that any- 
thing like due order could be preserved but for a short, 
time longer, “ let us have the whole story Sir Knight 
of the Black Armor. God knows I am as curious as the, 
rest. Who art thou ?” 

“ I am thy brother, who this day stands approved of 
God, and vindicated by his own good sword. God pro- 
tect the right !” 

With these words the Black Knight lifted the sable- 
plumed helm from his head, and Hugh deVermandois 
stood revealed to the doubly-astonished host ! 

It could not be ! It was some wild phantasy ? And 
yet, with his helm removed, he now addressed them 
in his own manner of speech, and they knew him for 
the noble prince whom they had mourned as dead. 

And then they pressed forward to grasp his hand — 
all the gallant chiefs of the army, and the knights of 
his own household. Tancred and Robert of Normandy 
were the first ; and -one of the last was Raymond of 
Thoulouse. He hung upon the prince’s neck, big 
tears rolling down his cheeks, asking if he could ever 
be forgiven for the wrong he had done. He was going 
on, blaming himself for his blind folly, when Hugh 
stopped him with the remark : 

“ Touching these things, my Lord, let this fair hand 
be the mediator between us and the pledge of our 
lasting friendship and love.” 

“ So be it !” replied the old count, and as he spoke 
he placed the hand of his child within that of the noble 
prince. 


426 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON., 


Hugh de Vermandois was not insensible to the 
anxiety of his friends, and as soon as he coiild get 
clear of those who pressed upon him with their con- 
gratulations, eager not only to greet him, but also to 
know if it were really their beloved prince, he took 
! his stand upon the dais, and told them how it had 
happened that he was able to be with them, alive and 
well. 

“ My friends,” he said, “ on that morning when I 
went forth from the camp — the morning after my 
attempted battle with De Grillon — I went as one 
for whom life had no more charms. I knew that I 
had been poisoned ; but could I make others believe 
it ? The thought that one of my friends held suspicion 
of my loyalty was agonizing ; and when I came to re- 
flect that a battle, to the result of which I had left my 
vindication, had gone against me, my grief knew no 
bounds. In short, with the effect of the poison still 
upon me, the thoughts that thronged my mind drove 
me fairly mad ; and as I wended my way up the mourn 
tain, I came to feel that I would rather die than live. 
In my frenzy, I cared not if I never beheld another 
human face. I was reflecting thus, my thoughts run- 
ning upon the taking of my own life, when I met 
Hashishin, with two of his attendants, upon the edge 
of the great table of rock ; and when we had greeted 
each other, he informed me that a Christian soldier 
lay dead under the cliff. I went with him to the spot, 
where I found the dead body to be that of a cross- 
bowman, and from his garb I judged that he had be- 
longed to the quarter of the Count of Flanders. By 
his side, or very near to him, lay a dead kid, with an 
arrow through its heart. The man had evidently dis- 
covered, the kid upon the brow of the precipice, and 


REVELATIONS CONCLUSION. 


42 ? 


had shot it ; and upon going up after it, he must have 
been careless, and fallen over. 

* “ As I stood and gazed upon the dead body a strange 
thought presented itself. The man had been almost 
exactly of my own size ; his hair and beard were of 
the same color, and were tr-immed as though he had 
fancied my style, and had copied it. And his general 
form — the hands, feet, length and size of limb — was 
all mine own. In falling from that terrible height, 
he had struck so far forward upon his head that the 
features of his face were completely bruised and 
marred ; and I knew, if he were in my garb, no living 
man, not knowing the circumstances, could detect the 
cheat. 

! “ And what should I gain by this ? People should 

'think I was dead ; my enemies should be thrown off 
their guard ; and I could take my own time and method 
in bringing the truth to light. I told Hashishin of my 
thoughts, and he said he could help me. If I would 
put my armor upon the dead soldier, he would let me 
have a suit of black armor, which was once worn by 
:Solyman of Tyre, and which he was sure would fit 
me ; and if I would leave my horse, he would give 
.me another ; and he declared that he could give me a 
cordial which would quickly restore my strength. 

“And so the work was done. I removed my outer 
cjothing, and the two guards stripped the cross-bow- 
man of his coarse haubergeon, and then drew my suit 
of mail carefully on in its place. You know how the 
body was found. So we left it. I knew search would 
be made for me ; and I knew that Walter would find 
the place. After that I went with the old man and 
got the promised cordial, and also the black suit, which 
I found not only to' fit me, but of remarkable quality ; 


428 


GERTRUDE THE AMAZON. 


and Hashishin, anxious to serve me, constructed a 
simple but curious contrivance upon the inside of my 
visor, which had the effect to materially change the 
tone of my voice without interfering with my speech. 
Thus I was prepared in season to strike the highway 
to the north and wait for the appearance of my friends. 
You know the rest. Only I must here declare that the 
purpose for which I assumed this disguise might have 
been accomplished easily without. But I did not 
know then — or I did not realize — what noble friends I 
had. 

“ Tancred — Robert I Oh, may I live to prove to you 
how grateful I can be for all that you have said and 
done.” 

And there were other knights whom Hugh embraced 
and blessed ; and in the end he discovered that if he 
would embrace all his friends he must needs muster 
the whole army, and leave out not one who was worthy 
of regard. 

Peter of Bourbon, unable now to deny his guilt, 
made a full and free confession, substantiating all 
that Hugh had told, and much more. In presence of 
the whole army his spurs were hacked from his heels 
by the common executioner, his sword broken, and he 
cast out from the companionship of the knights of the 
crusade. 

Hugh and Gertrude, after consulting with the old 
count, and taking some slight counsel of their own 
hearts, concluded that they would not wait until they 
reached Jerusalem for the sacerdotal mandate that 
was to make them man and wife. They were married 
in Godfrey’s pavilion, and when the ceremony had 
been performed, the bold and gallant chieftains there 
assembled did, with one accord, declare that never 


REVELATIONS — ‘CONCLUSION. 


429 


was there a nobler knight, and never a fairer wife ; 
and from that time forth the recording minstrels of 
the crusade found much employ in preserving to his- 
tory the valiant deeds of Hugh the Great and his much 
beloved Gertrude. 


THE END. 



An Original Story of Adventure 


IN THE CHINA SEA. 

BY 

SEWARD W. HOPKINS, 

Author of u Two Gentlemen of Hawaii ,” etc etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY PRUETT SHARE AND H. M. EATON. 

12mo. 300 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Clotli. Price, $1.00. 
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“ In the China Sea” is a story of the Pacific Coast, where the 
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they communicate with their kindred of the Flowery Kingdom 
across the seas. The story deals with the disappearance of a 
beautiful girl, who is traced to Portland, Oregon, where she is 
embarked on a steamer bound for China. There is an exciting 
pursuit and search for this beautiful girl. The extraodinary 
things which happen, the sights and people met with and de- 
scribed, in detailing this pursuit and search, render this story one 
of the most interesting and exciting productions of modern fiction. 
It will rank with “King Solomon’s Mines” and Jules Verne’s 
wonderful narrations. An unknown people of strange customs, 
manners and appearance is introduced. A great war is started, 
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author seems to be boundless, and the interest of the reader is 
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A Novel by Fanny Lewaid. 


The Mask of Beauty. 

% 

AFTER THE GERMAN OF 

Fanny Lewaid, 

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With Illustrations by F. A. Carter. 

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have been translated into English. This is a story of Hela, a 
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principal town. The maid of Hela is a poor orphan, whose rare 
beauty is the cause of her many trials. She is bred in a fishing 
village among a superstitious people, full of curiosity, and isolated 
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and loving art with which the author has developed her subject, 
and exhibited beauty as the mask of a pure and beautiful soul 
unconscious of the dangerous possession. 

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Yet She Loved Him, 

By Mrs. Kate Vaughn, 

and 

• * 

Jephthah’s Daughter, 

By Julia Magruder, 

Author of “ A Magnificent Plebeian,” “At Anchor,” 
“Honored in the Breach ,” etc. 


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which is appended, is of a distinctly higher character. It is 
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peculiarly appropriate to the subject, and full of beauty. The 
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power. 

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THE LEDGER LIBRARY. 


No. and Title. 


Author. Cloth. Paper. 


1— Her Double Eife 

2— Unknown 

3— The Gunmaker of Moscow... 

4— Maud Morton 

5— The Hidden Hand 

6— Sundered Hearts 

7— The Stone-Cutter of Lisbon. . 

8— Lady Kildare 

9— Cris Rock 

10 — Nearest and Dearest 

11— The Baililf’s Scheme 

12— A Reap In the Dark 

13— Henry M. Stanley 

14— The Old Eife’s Shadows 

15— A Mad Betrothal 

1 6— The Lost Cady of Bone 

17— lone 

18 — For Woman’s Cove 

19— Cesar Birotteau . . 

20— The Baroness Blank 

21— Parted by Fate 

22— The Forsaken Inn 

23— Ottllie Aster’s Silence 

24— Edda’s Birthright 

25— The Alchemist 

2G — Under Oath 

27 Cousin Pons 

28— The Unloved Wife 

29 — Cilith 

30— Reunited 

31— Mrs. Harold Stagg 

32 — The Breach of Custom 

33— The Northern Eight 

34— Beryl’s Husband 

35— A Cove Match 

36— A Matter of Millions 

37 — Eugenie Grandet 

38— The linprovisatore 

39— raoli, the Warrior Bishop... 

40— Under a Cloud 

41— Wile and Woman 

42 — An Insignificant Woman 

43— The Carletons - 

44 — Mademoiselle Desroches 

45— The Beads of Tasiner 

46— John Win thro p’s Defeat 

47— Cittle Heather-Blossom 

48— Gloria 

49— David Eindsay 

50— The Cittle Countess 

51— The Chautanquans 

52— The Two Husbands 

53— Mrs. Barr’s Short Stones. -- 

54 — We Parted at the Altar....... 

65— Was She Wife or Widow? 

56— The Country Doctor 

67— Florabel’s Cover 

58— Eida Campbell... 

59— Edith Trevor’s Secret 

60 — Cecil Rosse — ------ 

61— Cove is Cord of All 

62— True Daughter ot Harteusteiu 

63— Zina’s Awaking - - - 

64— Morris Julian’s Wife 

65— Dear Elsie. 

66— The Hungarian Girl 

67— Beatrix Rohan 

68— A Son of Old Harry 

69— Romance of Trpuville- 

70— Cife of General Jackson 

71— The Return of the O’Mahony. 

72— Reuben Foreman, the Village 

73— Neva’s Three Covers 

74 — “Em” ------ 

75 -“Em’s” Husband 


Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Mrs. E. D. K. N. Southworth 

Sylvanus Cobb, Jr 

Major A. R. Calhoun 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Prof. Wm. Henry Peck 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Captain Mayne Reid 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 

Henry Frederick Reddall 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Laura Jean Libbey 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 

Laura Jean Libbey ...... 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 

Honore He Balzac 

August Niemann 

Laura Jean Libbey 

Anna Katharine Green 

Mrs. D. M. Lowrey 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Honore De Balzac 

Jean Kate Ludlum 

Honore De Balzac 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 

<« << 

A Popular Southern Author 

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W. C. Kitchin.... 

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Mary J. Salford 

W. Heimburg 

Robert Grant 

Andre Theuriet 

Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 

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«. « 

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John Habberton 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 

Laura Jean Libbey 

Malcolm Bell 

Honore De Balzac 

Laura Jean Libbey 

Jeau Kate Ludlum 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

ii « 

From the German 

a a 

Mrs. J. Kent Spender 

Elizabeth Olmis 

From the German 

it it 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Albion W. Tourgee 

Brehat 

Oliver Dyer 

Harold Frederic 

Blacksmith. Darley Dale 

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a «< a 


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THE LEDGER LIBRARY—Continued. ' 


No. and Title. 


Author 


Clotii. 


76— The Haunted Husband 

77— The Siberian Exiles 

78— The Spanish Treasure 

79— The Kin^ of Honey Island 

80— Mate of the Easter Bell”.. 

81— The Child of the Parish 

82— Miss Mischief. 

83— The Honor of a Heart 

84— 1 Transgressing the Law 

85 — Hearts and Coronets 

86— Tressilian Court 

87— Guy Tressiliau’s Fate 

88— Mynheer Joe 

89— The Froler Case 

90— A Priestess of Comedy 

91— All or Nothing 

92— A Skeleton in the Closet 

93— Brandon Coyle’s Wife 

94— Love 

95— The Tell-Tale Watch 

96— Hetty; or the Old Grudge 

97— Girls of a Feather 

98— Appassionato 

99— Only a Girl’s Heart 

100— The Rejected Bride 

101— Gertrude Haddon 

102— Countess Dynar, or Polish Blood. 

103— A Sleep-Walker 

104— A Eover From Across the Sea and 

105— A Princess of the Stage 

106— Countess Obernau 

107— The Gun-Bearer 

108— Wooing a Widow 

109— Her Eittle Hierliness 

110— In the China Sea 

111— Invisible Hands 

112— Yet She Eoved Him 

113— The Mask of Beauty 

114— Two Gentlemen of Hawaii.. 

115— The Shadow of the Guillotine 


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Jane G. Fuller 1.00 

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*' “ 1.00 

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From the French by H. O. Cooke... 1.00 

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